Blood Innocence
by FaeryTale Faever
Summary: Turned by the Vampire King and made to serve his deadly decadent court, Seras is mocked by her peers for her blood innocence and virginity. Learning of the sort of brothel in the dungeon, Seras descends just to see what's down there. Little can she imagine, she might just find the emaciated companion she needs in this corrupt underworld. (Short fic. A few chapters of PxS.)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: This idea was inspired a long time ago by Master Of The Boot's fanfic "All the Pretty Things: Strangled At Birth." A little crass for my taste, but I kind of liked the idea of a brothel in the dungeon for vampires to enjoy, and Seras making her way down there to seek a reprieve from her horrifying unlife.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing. I also give full credit to Master of the Boot and his fanfic "All the Pretty Things" for inspiring this story in the first place.

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As the world was taken over by vampires, Seras was attacked and nearly raped and turned into a ghoul by a rogue vampire. She was saved at the last minute by the Vampire King, who came to conquer the "town punk" that attacked a whole human village in the open; but she was mortally wounded in the process. For reasons she could never guess, he took pity on her, drank her blood before she bled out and "saved her" by making her into a vampire. She remained by his side from then on out, but hated and feared every minute because it was not a fun place to be.

If this were a fairy tale, his rescue would be the perfect ending. She was a damsel in distress saved by a handsome prince or king riding by, he took her on his valient black steed, and they rode away into the sunset (er, moonset) to his kingdom, where they would live in his castle forever more.

Too bad Seras wasn't a princess, this wasn't a fairy tale, he was not a gallant prince or king, and the castle in question was a wretched hive of supernatural depravity. He was a sadistic, blood-thirsty, supernatural abomination and tyrant. His castle was filled with other wanton, corrupt, blood-thirsty creatures just like him.

Apparently Seras was supposed to feel grateful to the Vampire King himself for deeming her worthy to work as a secretary in his study. For the life of her, she just couldn't see it. She sat before the beautiful hand-carved mahogony desk on a large leather armchair, before piles of thick yellow parchment, typewriters, antique telephones, and other such things, and thought she could think of no worse punishment. She was a police officer, not a receptionist. She was an action girl that worked out on the field, not an office girl that sat behind a desk. Papers, numbers, letters, and office technology had been the bain of her existence when she was alive. Now she had to do this for eternity as an immortal, soulless, blood-sucking monstrosity?

"And now you and I may be inseparable," her master said as he settled down to his own larger, grander desk at the center of the study.

"Ugh..." Seras groaned, but then sighed and let it pass.

He was rarely in his study and was so focused on his own work he barely paid her any mind when he was there, so that was a blessing in disguise.

Little did she know, the job itself was a blessing in disguise too. Having a job actually gave her something to do, which was more than she could say for the other vampires he turned who had nothing better to do than lay around all day and night. Working also gave her an excuse not to interact with them.

Around the castle, countless vampire aristocrats lounged. If her master was the Vampire King, and his home the official royal castle, then the vampires that lounged were his royal courtiers.

Countless wealthy, aristocratic lords and ladies all lounging around plush beds and couches. Dozens of men in dandy suits and dusters, bow ties and knotted cravats that recreated the elegance of Victorian England. Countless women in deep silk evening dresses, with long slits up the legs, arm-length opera gloves, long wavy hair, glittering jewels and fine titles.

Seras felt very out of place. She was the one turtleneck in a sea of plunging necklines. The one coarse cotten t-shirt and jeans in a sea of silk evening dresses with glittering jewels. The one shrinking violet in a garden of blooming roses, reaching sunflowers, and grasping vines. She was the timid lamb in a den of ravenous wolves... The one blushing virgin in a pleasure den of lascivious sirens.

While Seras found her office work tedious, it was a welcome change from the wanton women lounging around that tried to invite her to join them every time they saw her.

As Seras worked toward her grief of no longer being human, ripped away from the only life she ever knew, joining this horrible secret society of soulless bloodsucking monsters, battled her identity crisis of being a Police Girl versus a Dracula, questioned her place in the universe and her right to exist, and all those other things we know she feels but don't have time to go into detail over the story... her "sisters" made it that much harder by trying to welcome her into the fold, then pressure her into entering while she still wasn't ready.

They moaned and arched and sighed whenever she saw them. Every human, every male they came across made them giggle like tinkering bells, dance around like gossamer gowns flowing in the wind, and beckon like mirages.

Every parlour and chamber in the Vampire King's castle was filled with pleasured women, moaning and sighing as they were feeling up human pleasure slaves, or were felt up by male vampires that turned them for that very purpose.

Seras heard moaning in her own ear, and gasped and shot back.

It was one of the Brides, the three eldest and dearest to the Vampire King, with her moonlit skin and silken evening dress.

"Seras..." she moaned, "It has been too long... You must join us in play..."

Seras shot back, and stood apprehensively, ready to run. "I... no. I don't need to."

"But it's been so long!" one of the other brides joined in. She was just as esquisitely beautiful, but with long dark chocolate brown hair to contrast her moonlit skin. "You were turned so long ago and yet you refuse to join us."

"I... no, I'm fine," Seras said again, and backed away slowly.

Her "sisters" slowly approached her, looking needy and desperate for... something.

Without turning her back, Seras fumbled for the doorknob behind her. "I... I just have too much work to do. The master keeps me so busy, you see."

"Oooh... he keeps you 'busy' all right, but not the way you need to be..."

"If only he took you as he took us when he turned us," she placed a hand on her breast and took a sharp breath, "you would be just as you should be..."

She saw these moaning, sighing, nymphomaniac... things and wondered what happened to them? Were they like this when they were alive? Who were they when they were alive? What happened to them to make them these... empty, soulless, identity-less beings?

"Who were you before you became this?" Seras asked.

They didn't seem fazed by the question. Only mildly curious that she would ask such an odd question. Nothing more.

Having clasped the doorknob, she threw it open and darted out the door.

Nymphomaniacs, every one of them. Regardless of what they were like before they were turned, most vampires seemed to lose themselves in the wanton pleasures of lust, flesh, and blood. Any time Seras had to walk through the main lobbies or antechambers, she felt her insides run cold by the dozens of well-dressed vampires lounging around with human servants in their laps, or draped in a fellow vampire's lap.

They mocked her for her chastity though. At first she ignored them, but this was her life and these were her new people, no matter how miserable it made her to slowly acknowledge it over the coming months, and their mockery slowly got to her.

Even her master soon grew impatient with her chastity.

"Seras, come here," he said.

She approached him. One of the reasons she didn't like him being in his study was the attention he could pay her. Like every night, he held out his hand, and she placed her own in his.

In the earlier nights, he just have her kiss his hand in reverence. On nights when he felt more amorous, he would hold out his palm facing up so she could clasp it, then he would kiss her. Over time he would nip at her flesh, and gently nip or suck on her veins.

Over time, he grew more... desirous. Tonight, like many nights before, after she clasped his hand he led her around the desk and over to his lap. Like the obedient servant, she sat in his lap and allowed him to run his hands over her arms and waist.

He was extremely tall and handsome, with long wavy black hair, moon pale skin, and an impeccable black Victorian suit and white coat draped across his shoulders. She felt so small and frail in his arms, like a little kitten sitting atop his lap. She felt him run the back of his gloved fingers over her bare arms, and breathe soothingly into her ear.

She'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good physically, but emotionally it was very distressing because she wasn't fully sure what he intended, how far it would go, whether she would have any say; and truthfully whether she even wanted it now.

"Seras..." he whispered seductively in her ear, "Why haven't you drank any blood?"

She shuddered. She couldn't answer.

"Master, you know..."

"Why. Not. Drink?" he demanded, as he squeezed her arms.

Seras winced, and her insides squirmed with discomfort. She knew he knew the reason why, and admitting was so painful because she felt so foolish, knew he saw her as foolish.

"I... I don't know," she confessed. "It just feels like..."

He squeezed more tightly, commanding her to go on.

"It'll just feel like..." she closed her eyes, "something important will have ended inside of me forever..."

"You are an idiot," he snapped, and flung her away.

Seras clutched her waist with her arms as she steadied herself, and he swung away from her in his great chair.

They'd had this conversation many times before. Once, he had admitted this could work. That maybe in a castle filled with wonton creatures of the night, there might be room for a timid little "evening walker" like her. Once, he admitted he kept her around because she was a breath of fresh air in this heady, stuffy, perfumed castle of indulgence. However, he grew more and more agitated with her over time. The traits he had found refreshing at first became annoying later. Then it started showing in how he treated her. Then it showed in what he chose to talk to her about. Now it was all he talked about.

"You refuse to drink blood. You refuse to lie with anyone. You refuse to socialize with your own kind like a proper vampire," he snapped.

"And you refuse to accept that I do things at my own pace, and suddenly that's my fault?" Seras snapped.

Weak, timid, and cowardly as she was, even she had her limits. Even she felt too angry and defensive to remember she was yelling at the Vampire King.

"I thought you a breath of fresh air from the wanton sirens that fill my castle," he said, with a careless sweep of his surroundings. "But even I thought you would get with the program eventually."

"So you picked the chastest girl you could find and expected her to change, and somehow that's _my_ fault?" Seras snapped again.

What was that old proverb Seras heard when she was alive? "Women marry men expecting them to change but they don't, while men marry women hoping they won't change but they do"? Talk about gender-reversal here! If Seras had a penny for every time someone expected her to change the way they wanted (usually to become a slut so they could sleep with her, as early as when she turned twelve), she could retire before joining the police force!

"I thought it amusing at the time. Now this innocent 'good girl' act is getting old," her master said with decision.

Seras felt ready to sob. A few months ago, it was a breath of fresh air. Now it was old?

"It's not an act!" she cried.

He looked at her sharply.

Everyone seemed to assume her lack of drinking was an act. Did it not occur to any of them that she was trying to preserve who she was? To not lose her humanity? To not get lost in the wanton desires that had consumed them? She felt that becoming a vampire was no different, no better than becoming a ghoul. Every one of them ceased being who they were before they died, and became something else; something wanton, corrupt, glutinous and mean.

He seemed to comprehend all of this with his piercing glare.

"It's not..." she faltered.

At last, he said, "Just drink the blood, you idiot," and swung away from her.

Well, her master ordered it. She had to drink blood some time. She could feel her insides now crave the blood like an alcoholic craves a drink, just at her master's command. But, her master didn't say when to drink, so Seras could put it off as long as she could.

Yet, it was harder to ignore now. Before, it was her own vampiric hunger that she could ignore if she put her mind on other things; like work. Now the part of her that longed for her master's love and approval craved blood so much, she almost swore she felt her intestines writhe like snakes, slithering and seeking what her master ordered.

She felt it craving; aching. Her thirst was almost impossible to ignore. Day and night, she thought of little else. Even if she thought of other things like the papers she was to go over, she still thought of blood in the back of her mind.

Yet, she still couldn't bring herself to do it. She walked around the castle and saw the handsome dandy men that towered over her and she felt too intimidated. She knew they liked to dominate the females she saw them feeding from as she went around. Just the thought of one of them leaning over her to kiss her, to dominate her made her instinctively scoot away, no matter how bad her hunger got.

The Brides were an absolute no, because even if they were smaller and slighter, they often... lost themselves in their lust. Became voracious beings like fabled she-wolves, and the idea of them crawling over her, lulling her with their hypnosis, feeding off her one by two by four while she was powerless to ask them to stop... scared Seras too.

Most of the cleaning staff were drained and abused by the other vampires enough that Seras didn't want to add to their trauma. Besides, vampires were extremely territorial, and most of them had reserved cleaning staff as their own personal pleasure slaves in that department.

Because he was such a respected and feared Vampire King, the courtiers that often frequented his castle didn't live there. He was arrogant and feared enough that high ranking vampires came in and out, staying for a holiday here and extended visit there. Most vampires visited each other's castles quite like the way we visit friends and acquaintances all the time.

So, imagine Seras' surprise to learn there was a brothel in the dungeon, filled with prostitutes of both genders for vampires upstairs to enjoy.

"Don't you have plenty of... er... companions of your own?" Seras grimaced.

"Of course not!" one vampiress with a valley-girl accent exclaimed, "These humans are just for drinking, the slaves downstairs are for fucking!"

Seras winced at the crude choice of words.

"Um... what's the difference?"

"Of course you wouldn't know the difference, virgin!"

A few of the women giggled.

Seras frowned.

With how much they indulged with each other, their own personal human pleasure slaves, and the cleaning staff around the castle, Seras wondered _what on earth_ \- what point and purpose - was the brothel for? Humans as blood and pleasure slaves up here and literal pleasure slaves for drinking blood from down there?

"Now you're catching on," said the Bride that Seras expressed her concern toward.

Melinda was one of the less lascivious Brides in the castle, at least after she was fed, and therefor the easiest one for Seras to talk to. They were in the dressing room, where several women decked themselves with silks, pearls and jewels. Seras stood off to the side in her faded t-shirt and jeans, not touching any of the pretty things before her.

"But there's no difference!" Seras cried.

"There's a world of difference," Melinda said calmly, and adjusted her necklace. "We vampires can only enjoy each other so much because we're all dead; our blood is cold and lifeless. There's not much of a meal."

"But don't you drink from each other all the time?" Seras asked.

The other women laughed, a tittering, tinkling, mocking laugh.

"Aw, she's so cute!"

"It's obvious you've never tried it, Seras!"

"Of course not!" Seras blushed.

She was embarrassed to admit she was a virgin in life, and now she was embarrassed to admit she was a "blood virgin" in death, despite how much she hated the whole concept.

"Of course we drink of each other," Melinda laughed, "It's so erotic! And vampire blood tastes good too. Has its own spice and flavor, even humans don't have. You'll understand with time. But it still not enough to sustain us. As good as it tastes, it does nothing for us; doesn't give us strength, rejuvinate us... it's like drinking water when what you need is a solid meal."

Like the enchanted Turkish delight from _The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe_, Seras though, remembering the scene in that book.

"Humans have such warm bodies and hot, rich, scrumptious blood," Melinda continued. "Oh, it makes my throat ache just thinking about it. It's so hot and filling, and feels pleasurable to reap in bed and bite..."

Her fangs grew noticeably longer as she talked, and her voice grew raspier.

Seras winced. 'You just ate!' she thought.

Melinda took a deep breath and forced herself to relax though. "But they're still our slaves," she sighed regretfully. "They can only take so much fucking and biting. It's a hassle having to be gentle, but it's more of a hassle to replace them."

Seras frowned. Melinda meant it was a hassle to find a replacement after they killed them.

"We have to be gentle with our servants," Melinda concluded, and smeared some glittery eye shadow over her eyes.

"Yeah!" the valley girl chimed in. "Up here, we have to be gentle. Down there, we can be as rough as we want!"

Seras felt physically sick. How was it they could talk of people like this?

"But doesn't that hurt them too?" she asked.

"Of course not," the valley girl said, "only the best of the best are down there."

"The what?"

"Oh, you know," she said as she applied mascara, "The best in taste, looks, stamina..."

"The prostitutes have been specially selected and... uhm... trained," Melinda moaned, "To satisfy our pleasure. And there's many different kinds down there, to satisfy different needs. You want someone tall and thick, yet smooth as silk? You've got the Captain. You want someone stout and burly, and hairy to boot? Anderson's for you. Someone tall, thin, and birdlike? Rip Van Winkle will make you sing. And that's not even getting to different species. There are quite a few exotic choices down there. His Majesty certainly likes to reward his subjects."

"I... there are exotic choices?" Seras asked, her head spinning.

"M-hm," Melinda said absently, tying her hair up with pearls.

"Maybe you should think about going down there to lose your blood innocence," the valley girl said to Seras as she applied finishing touches. "Or blood virginity, whichever comes first."

"Or goes first," Melinda grinned.

The valley girl gasped.

So for the next several night Seras got teased harder than ever for being a blood virgin. She'd never bitten anyone, never drank any blood, and never went to bed with anyone. For a vampire, this was as good as being a complete loser.

'Not that different from humans, come to think of it,' Seras thought. Those had been dark times in her life.

Now it was even worse because her peers mocked her for not drinking blood as well as not having sex. Not that she fully cared what they thought - she thought of them as vain, lazy, selfish, wanton, almost repulsive nymphomaniacs that indulged in their every desire like spoiled children without impulse control.

Yet, Seras had to live with them, as well as her master, and, well... the comments eventually got to her.

At first she tried to ignore it, but her master's demand that she drink and the ridicule she received from her peers finally started to get to her. Seras still could not bring herself to do it any more than she could bring herself to eat a dead possum, but their words slowly sunk in.

Many a day Sera lay awake in her coffin, lost deep in thought, feeling tortured and conflicted.

She held up her hand and looked at her own chalky, dehydrated, emaciated skin, and wondered if she was carrying this out too long. She didn't want to drink, didn't want to lose the last shred of her humanity. She didn't want to lose that small part of herself and become just like them, yet...

She also felt curious as to what lay down there. What sorts of people became prostitutes (just thinking the word made her wince) for the undead? What services did they offer that regular ones couldn't?

If she couldn't bring herself to drink from her peers (there was just an instinctual aversion she had no desire to try to overcome), nor harrass the already harried and drained human servants, maybe she could just go down there...? See if there was... well, just see?

One night, social shame and curiosity finally won over and Seras decided to just check it out. Just see what there was to see, if there was anything to see, and make her decision when it was time.

She learned where to find the madam - a beautiful red-haired woman with the ruthless sales pitch of a used jewelry store saleswoman. Seras wasn't sure what kind of vampire she expected to run the dungeons of an ancient, Gothic, medieval castle, but a tall, perky, red-haired vampire woman in a loose but elegant bun and dress was not what she would have guessed first.

"Oh, you're Seras Victoria! The blood virgin!" she exclaimed on first seeing her.

Just the term _virgin_ hit like an insult.

"My reputation proceeds me, it seems," Seras said.

"Of course it does! I could smell your innocence a mile away!" she said cheerfully.

"That's not what I meant..."

"Now, let's go down to the basement and see if there's something we can find!"

And the madam - Narissa - opened a large, creaking wooden door to a dark, dank passage. One would think they were going into a brightly lit and perfumed room, the way she smiled and ushered Seras down.

Seras felt extremely nervous descending the stone spiral steps into the dungeon - er, brothel. She saw a long, dark, stone hallway, filled with dozens upon dozens of doors on each side.

"Now, over there you'll find the female of the species..." Narissa said, pointing down the right, "And over here you'll find the males of every species!"

"All right," Seras said.

Taking this as preference, the woman led her down to the left.

Some of the doors were ajar, so she could smell the perfumes inside. In one room, she could hear one male shaving in here (she could hear the faucet water running, and hear the scrape of the razor blade against his skin), and in another she could hear one brushing his teeth. One door was wide open and she could see one man servicing a patient...

"Oh my!" Seras quickly darted her eyes away.

She would never remove the mental brand of a blonde vampire woman with her top off, riding a little brunette male human.

Narissa was extremely put out.

"Close the door when you're taking a whore!" she snapped.

The vampire woman pouted cutely as Narissa slammed the door.

Seras' cheeks burned.

"So, what kind of 'Prosti-dude' are you looking for?" she grinned.

"Please don't call them that," Seras said.

It just sounded so... trashy.

"Well, what's your type? Tall? Blonde? Strong? Human? Werewolf?"

"Well, I... there's werewolves?" Seras blinked.

"Oh yes! Quite a few!" Narissa grinned, rubbing her hands. "Three, in fact. One's a female, so you won't have any use for her." She led her down the hall as she spoke. "One's a tall auburn brute, very stout and hairy. Not your type? Well, then I might just have the right one for you..."

As she talked, Seras noticed one door slightly ajar. It was near the end of the hall, where the dim light was lowest. She could see just fine since she was a vampire, but she doubted whoever lived there could. She could hear the faint beating of a heart, and breathing of lungs.

Even before she saw, she sensed whoever it was weak, and in poor shape. The heart beat was soft even by human standards, and slightly muffled from the fat surrounding arteries. Most likely a poor diet and lifestyle had slightly clogged it, and either a much polluted upbringing or smoking made the lungs vaguely raspy.

As they drew near the werewolf's door, with the proprietor still talking, Seras leaned forward to see who lived in that little room.

He was sitting on the ground, with his back leaned against the wall, with his legs bend and his feet flat against the floor. He was naked except his trousers. This allowed her to see just how emaciated he was. She could see every bone in his body. Almost the entire surface of his skin was covered in large scars, cuts, gashes, and lacerations. Some were scars, some looked like they were in the long process of healing, and many looked like they were infected while on the verge of healing, and many looked very fresh.

A small trickle of blood ran down his arm, exciting her involuntary vampire hunger.

He had long, limp, red-brown hair tied in a loose braid down his back. It was dull, coarse, tangled in places, and clung to his skin from dried sweat. His skin was a pale sickly greyish-yellow, like he had seen neither nutrition nor sunlight in years. His long limbs were draped along his sides like he was too exhausted to lift them. In fact, his entire continence looked deeply lethargic and exhausted.

When she saw him, she felt so sorry for him, but at the same time she felt drawn - interested.

He took a weak breath from his cigarette, then glanced at her as though to say, "What's it to ya?"

She felt ashamed and immediately averted her eyes, yet his countenance did not leave her mind.

She was vaguely aware the madam was still talking. Still bragging about the merits of the werewolf she'd heard nothing about so far.

"... Hair as smooth as silk, as all wolves' underfur is, and his dick can lift..."

"Excuse me," she said, then shook her head to try to hurry the mental image out of her mind. "But... um... Whose room is that?"

"No one's!" she laughed. "None of these prosti-dudes own this place."

"Well then - okay - who lives there?"

Narissa took one scrutinizing look at the door.

"Just some human's," she shrugged. "None worth mentioning."

"Really? But there were humans further up the hall."

"Yes, but those were sexy humans. Handsome, desirable, strong, virile humans! Those humans down there," she pointed toward the darker corridor, "Are weak, ugly, worthless things. The lowest of the low. The cheapest of the cheap. Honestly, we only keep them around so we can squeeze every last drop we can out of them before we throw them to the ghouls."

Seras gasped. "That's awful!"

"It's business," the madam shrugged. "Would you expect any better for war criminals?"

"A-a what?" Seras gulped. "Wa-war criminals?"

"War criminals," she nodded, "Those filthy mongrels that tried to fight against their vampire overlords - his Lordship in particular - but were defeated, captured, and taken here as punishment. If they didn't like serving us before, they certainly don't like it now."

"O-oh dear," Seras said, looking down, "I had no idea..."

"A worse fate could have been impalement, fire or torture," Narissa said, "A kinder one would have been a swift death, or just get thrown to the ghouls. This way? They can pay their debt to us on their way out. And we, in turn, can extract revenge from them as we ravish their bodies and enjoy their succulent blood," she licked her lips lecherously.

Seras thought of all the deep gashes and bite marks on the human's body, which left him so weak, anemic, and emaciated.

"How awful!" Seras cried again, and covered her mouth.

"It's all part of the circle of life and death!" Narissa said cheerfully.

Seras looked back at the door, and could hardly believe it. "So you're saying he's...?"

"Paying his debt we speak," she said cheerfully. "I doubt he'll last the week. Few of them do."

Only a week? But he looked like he'd been in there for ages, poor thing. How on earth...?

"... He looks like he's in bad shape," Seras said with pity.

"Well, he's supposed to be like that," the madam said, "It's part of his punishment, isn't it? If he isn't dead yet, he'll wish he was."

Seras shuddered.

Seras was to learn that prostitutes of the dungeon had many different "gimmicks" to offer. Different kinds of pleasures for different kinds of fancies. In the male section alone, there were men of all shapes and sizes. Tall and muscular, tall and thin, stout and bulky; some even short! There were vampires for patrons who wanted a more refined touch, werewolves for patrons that wanted to unleash their inner beast, humans for patrons that liked something so weak and helpless to dominate in bed, and so on.

Just as there are different tiers of quality in real life - gold, silver, bronze, and copper, refined leather versus coarse leather versus some synthetic garbage that humans made long ago - there were different tiers of prostitutes.

Most had different levels of attractiveness, physical fitness, aptitude, stamina, and so on. Some customers liked to be dominated in bed; others liked to dominate, and all liked different levels of domination and submission. Some liked dominating those that put up a fight, others liked taking advantage of those too weak to fight back.

Seras learned with horror that there were some weak, malnourished, mal-treated humans who were meant to fill the fetish of vampires who liked to take complete advantage of physically weak, exhausted, poorly fed humans who were completely unable to fight back. Of pushing them under their legs, then riding them like two-bit ponies, then discarding them like broken toys. Using, abusing. Objects they pay just to abuse. Completely helpless creatures to exercise their power over before leaving them a bleeding mess after they were done.

Vampires already had vastly superior speed and reflexes from humans. The difference was already between a normal human and a sloth. So the ones that liked taking even weaker, sicklier humans for their own pleasure... well...

"So, would you like to rent an hour with the Captain?" Narissa asked cheerfully.

"... The what?" Seras asked, just having entered the conversation.

"The Captain!" she repeated indignantly.

Head spinning from all the new information, Seras vaguely allowed herself to get talked into seeing the Captain. His room was very nice, and very expensive. Not just to pay to get in (it took a whole week's pay just to walk through the door), but to furnish. It was large, mostly empty, but with beautifully carved wooden furniture, a large soft bed that smelled like it was stuffed with various animal feathers, draped with animal furs, real leather lounge chairs around the room, and fake trees set up on every wall.

The Captain himself was gorgeous. Seras felt many parts of herself come alive just seeing him.

He was indeed very tall, huge, and muscular. He wore only a pair of baggy trousers and boots, with the large silver belt buckle undone. His hair was short and indeed silky white, his chiseled jaw as clean shaven, and his high cheek bones rested under the most piercing red eyes. His skin looked very smooth and white, wrapped tightly over thick, hard, bulging muscles. She realized he must have been an albino, with his white hair, red eyes, and pale skin.

Yet... while he was handsome, there was something about him that didn't quite draw her. She couldn't explain it. She found him very handsome, but she felt no desire to touch him, speak to him, hear from him, or cross boundaries with him.

She felt the feeling was mutual. While he looked at her with the same intense gaze as anything else, she felt she was no more to him than the furniture leaning against the wall.

She tried to make it work, since she had paid so much to see him (almost unconsciously), but there was just something missing.

She stood there awkwardly for many minutes, and sat for several more. He sat on his bed and regarded her evenly, waiting for her to make the first move. He tried to get up to approach her at one point, but she freaked out so much he sat back down. She had the feeling he would do whatever she wanted if she asked him, but she didn't get the impression he would do it because he wanted to.

She tried to start a conversation a few times, but the few times they didn't die in her throat, they were killed by his pointed glare.

She realized several of the fake trees in his room were real, after she caught scent of them.

"Trees? You must really miss the outdoors!" she said.

He just looked at her.

She settled back down and felt embarrassed for her stupidity.

He really was handsome. Taller than the door, smooth as marble; rippling muscles, glossy white hair, and a very deep, musky scent. He looked calm, even, and self-controlled, yet his eyes almost radiated with suppressed energy. And obedience, of course; she got the distinct impression that he would do whatever she wanted, no matter how foolishly vanilla, blush-inducingly raunchy, or even painfully humiliating, without so much as a flinch. Without giving any impression that he liked or disliked it.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to run her fingers over his skin, feel his hard muscles under her hands, kiss his lips with hers, lay down with him descending over her and... and...

It just seemed to empty and meaningless.

She couldn't describe it. Whatever they did in here, it would be as perfunctorily done as a she-dog standing still for a mutt to have a quick shag. No intimacy, no contact, no passion.

She... Seras couldn't explain it.

She wound up leaving twenty minutes early. She thanked him for his time, then apologized for wasting it, then corrected herself that at least she bought him forty minutes of not having to work... then she hastily said goodbye and rushed out.

The madam was not there, which she was thankful for on her way out. She ignored the smell of pheromones, scented showers, and perfumes on her way through the hall. She ignored the sound of moaning in one room and the sound of one skilled workman (she was just going to mentally call them that) bringing a client into screaming oblivion in another.

Yet, even as she resolved to block this place from her mind, she couldn't help thinking of that human with the red hair and scars.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Sorry to take so long to update, there was a situation I had to deal with. I'll try to turn these chapters out quickly and update my fairy tale fics shortly. I'm almost done with Beauty and the Geese's next chapter, and mostly completed the one after that.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing. I also give full credit to Master of the Boot and his fanfic "All the Pretty Things" for inspiring this story in the first place.

* * *

Seras tried putting her entire visit to the dungeons out of her mind, but she just kept feeling haunted by that dark corridor, those doomed men, and that injured human.

It was just so gloomy and horrible. She wished there was something she could do, but she couldn't even stop vampire men up here from striking at chamber maids who pleaded mercy on account of their children. Well, she could, but it brought the wrath of the entire vampire court down on her, brought her own master down on Seras' head, the chamber maid was relocated to the vampire man's castle where he had easier access to her away from Seras, and ultimately nothing changed.

Yet, at the same time, she thought of that red-haired human that looked so used up. Like a used rag ready to be thrown away.

Seras remembered Narissa's words. "I doubt he'll last the week. Few of them do."

Seras shuddered. She felt so awful, and almost responsible for doing nothing. Even if she couldn't change the lives of everyone down there (she could only imagine approaching her master on the subject, and almost see his mocking and/or contemptuous response), she felt there was something she could do for individuals. Like seeing a stray dog or cat and choosing to take it in or make the call to the shelter. Even if you can't save all dogs and cats from the streets, you can do something for the one right in front of you.

And Seras had seen the injured human right in front of her.

She didn't even know why she was thinking about him personally. Perhaps it was pity because he was so injured. Indignation that he had caught her staring and looked at her with such contempt, like he guessed what she was thinking and felt ready to sneer at her for it.

But Seras didn't think it was pity. Not fully. He looked so lethargic and injured, like his heart would stop beating and his lungs would stop breathing because it was too much trouble to bother. Like he would drape dramatically back, let out his final breath, and rest in peace. (Now she understood what that phrase meant.)

Yet... there was an underlying forcefulness, an energy she could not describe. Despite how weak he looked, his heart pumped with conviction, his lungs with decision. His eyes were physically glazed from pain and exhaustion, yet they were as sharp as a wolf's. He looked at her with precision, and she had no doubt his mind was sharp as a tack when properly fed and rested.

Seras couldn't describe it, couldn't put her finger on it, and that's probably why it drove her so nuts.

She had no idea what she found so fascinating about this man.

After a few days of restlessness, she called one of the typists over.

"Molly, would you go to Narissa and ask if the man in the last door to the left is available?" Seras asked, almost on impulse.

Molly looked at her oddly. "The what?"

"The... man in the dungeon..." Seras felt stupid now. "Um, talk Narissa, and ask if... the man in the last door to the left is available..."

Molly still looked at her strangely, so Seras snapped, "NOW!" And she scooted off.

Seras sighed, then realized that was the first time she had ever given an order. She had always been submissive and followed orders, as all children are to adults, rookie cops are to their senior officers, and all humans are to vampires. She considered it a mark of her personal identity, and humanity. Now, giving orders like the vampires did, made her feel like a vampire. She also felt tainted, violated, and wretched.

"Why do I even want to know if the room's available?" Seras thought. "I guess I just want to make sure he hasn't died."

The typist came back and said the room was available, and the proprietor wanted to know if Seras wanted to reserve a time.

Seras hesitated. Her first thought was "NO!" but she had a feeling she might want to check in later. Having a time set aside meant she could peek in without having the proprietor hovering over her shoulder, trying to get her to choose the most expensive one.

Shyness had been what provoked her to ask the typist to check for her, and shyness was what provoked Seras to walk timidly along the hall, stopping to talk to no one, asking for help from no one, and wanting to be seen by no one.

She hovered a little outside the door, wondering what she wanted to see, what she expected to see. Part of her feared what he would think on seeing her again. What he would expect from her. Did he expect her to put out, or...?

She heard shower water running, as soft as drizzling rain drops on cement. She felt and smelled no steam, meaning the water was cold. She eventually heard the loud rusted screech of a faucet turning, and the water ceased. Shen then heard fabric scraping against flesh. Eventually she summoned the courage to peek in from the crack in the doorway.

She saw the human turned from her, dressed in nothing but faded, ripped boxer shorts and a ragged towel draped across his shoulders. Hi skin was wet, and his braid hung like a drowned cat down his back.

"Whenever you're ready, come in and sit down," he said without turning around.

Seras gasped, and felt her blood rush to her face. He was just a human, and she'd made sure not to make a sound, so how did he know she was there?

She timidly stepped in, afraid her mere presence might disturb something, and looked around. It was like a dark little prison cell. A perfect square room of cold, damp concrete, with cracks along the walls and floors and roaches scurrying between them. A steel spring bed was set against a wall. On the bed sprawled a coarse, thin mattress, filled with holes, littered with stuffing ripped out of it, and blotched with huge blood stains all over.

Seras winced on seeing it. She noticed the mattress hung crookedly on the bedframe, as though broken, and there was only one raggedy blanket bundled off to the side.

The whole room smelled of damp concrete, with the stronger smells of blood, sweat, body odour, tobacco smoke, and... something. Seras felt her face go warm again.

Beside the bed sat a broken wooden nightstand with two drawers, supposedly to keep his things. At a corner end of the room a shower head stuck out of the wall, while a little round drain sat in the center of the room. Most of the floor was covered with water. No wonder it was damp in here.

The human stood near the shower, absently dabbing his cheek with the towel that was draped over his shoulders. She could see the scars over his body clear as day. After a moment he gave up drying, and lit a cigarette lethargically.

He still looked much worn out. He stood in such a way that betrayed a desire to collapse. He then shambled over to his bed, and half-sat, half-flopped down onto it.

He was missing an eye.

Not sure what else to do, Seras sat on the floor opposite of him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and regarded her evenly.

"So..." he said.

"So..." she squeaked.

He shifted. She noticed he sat with his legs spread, and leaned back so he was propped on his elbows, so she could see the wounds that covered his bony chest and legs. He tilted his neck so she could see the savage bite marks that marred his flesh, from collar to chin.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked.

"Um..."

After a respectable silence he asked, "Are you a righty or a leftie?"

"A what?" she squeaked.

"Righty or lefty? Do you tilt your head toward the right when you bite, or the left?" he pointed to his neck, "I've been bit more on the right—your right, that is. It's more popular to bite there, so you might want it. However, if you like flesh that's less torn up, your right will do."

"I... I don't want to drink from you," Seras flushed.

She wondered if he even had the blood to spare.

He only lifted an eyebrow, and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Then what do you want?"

"Um..." she felt suddenly extremely stupid, awkward and embarrassed.

She had no idea. She'd never done this before. Well, not true, she had been to the Captain's quarters just a few nights ago. But she still was completely unprepared for this. She didn't even know what to ask for!

He kept looking at her calmly, then widened his eye in mild surprise. "Are you blushing?"

This only made it worse. "N-no!"

"You are, aren't you?" he sat up to get a better look.

Now her face was smoldering like melted metal. "NO!"

She covered her face with her hands, which just made it worse.

"Heh," he laughed, and tapped a spare bit of ash off the end of his cigarette. "I've never seen a vampire that blushes."

"Well, you clearly don't get out much!"

She winced as soon as she said it.

The crooked half-smile dropped from his face, and his eye narrowed. "Clearly."

Seras winced. Now she'd done it.

If she had just said she was sorry, things might have been different. Instead, she tried to explain. "What I mean is, I'm a new vampire."

By about seven months, but who was counting?

"Oh," he sneered, "Is that all?"

Seras looked away.

More silence.

"So do you want to start with the arm, or...?"

"I don't know, all right?" she snapped.

He shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Take your time, then."

"I will!"

More awkward silence.

He seemed very calm and detached, which only made her more tightly strung.

"This your first time?" he asked.

She frowned as she blushed. "Yeah."

"And you decided to do it here?"

"I haven't decided anything!" Seras snapped.

Even to this one human in this private room in the darkest part of the dungeon, she still couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye or even incline toward him.

He snorted. "Clearly."

"Look, if that's the way you're going to be, you can stay here by yourself," she snapped.

He shrugged, "Fine by me."

"Very well!" she said.

Now her pride was hurt and the only way to save it was to stand and leave.

"Nice talking to you!" he said on her way out.

Seras spun around in the hallway, thought about turning back, then huffed and stormed back out.

Then she caught a second wind, stuck her head through the door and said, "You know, I was thinking about helping you, but with that attitude you can just sit there!" and she took off before he could respond.

Embarrassment increased the further she ran up the stairs and into the castle, until full-blown mortification flooded her once she reached her coffin. She felt the weight of the stupidity of her every word and action down there press more tightly on her with every passing minute, until she felt sure it would crush her. She also felt guilt and embarrassment over what she had said.

She didn't even know what came over her. It wasn't that big of a deal, and he wasn't even that rude. She was just so embarrassed and didn't handle it well. She was pretty used to mockery and humiliations by this point, but they were all from her master and the vampire court, who were all superiors to her in every way. She had to just sit there and take it, and had learned to do so.

This human made fun of her, and part of her felt like accepting, while another part felt this was a human who was there because she paid for his time (it's important to note that Seras thought of it as paying for his time and not for his body), and she didn't feel like she had to take it. She put up with it from her master because she had to, but she didn't have to from him, darn it!

So then, why couldn't she stop thinking of him? Involuntarily turning their encounter over and over in her mind?

She was sure he quite forgot her, or thought her an amusing fool to laugh about when things grew rough, but her...?

The visit had been extremely awkward. She never touched him, never drank from him. He seemed only vaguely aware of her; almost contemptuous of her. He barely looked at her, and what little he did was in amazement at seeing a vampire that blushed, then contempt for pointing out his lack of freedom. Every word held a hint of mockery that she didn't like at all.

While she doubted he could afford to do so overtly, he was such a vaguely unpleasant jerk she'd planned to put the whole thing out of her mind, but she still couldn't stop thinking about him. The visit only increased her curiosity for him, not lessened it.

She was also haunted by those scars; those slashes, those bites, those bruises. That wet but bruised skin. That anemic physique. The kind one gets only when they're so drained of blood that all the soft, supple buoyancy is gone. What little he had left seemed to seep out of his untreated bite wounds and slashes. The infected wounds that weren't healed with his "shower."

She remembered how broken down and blood-stained his bed was, and how wounded his body was, and she could only imagine he wasn't used very well. He was one of the cheapest of the cheap, barely worth considering. Just a war criminal who was to carry out his punishment in the basement till he was all used up and fed to the ghouls.

Her stomach clenched in concern for him. She could only imagine how far along he was. She had no idea how long he'd been there, how long he'd endured this, nor how long he could keep it up.

Every night she worried that somewhere far below, he was finally drained of blood and turned into a ghoul. That he'd been used up like a medical blood bag and had the empty bag thrown to the garbage shoot; in this case, the ghouls.

Every day, she dreamed he'd been used up by some client and left to die. She imagined him lying dead in his broken bed, draped across it with his one eye open. That some beautiful Bride rode him relentlessly till he snapped like a broken toy, then left his lifeless corpse there to rot.

Seras often woke gasping in horror, tears streaming down her eyes, because these dreams were not so different from the memories of her parents' murder.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Seras didn't care if it was foolish, if other vampires laughed at her, if _he_ thought her stupid.

She bought another hour with him, then used her untouched salary to buy a whole basket of human food, medicine, and medical blood. (Yes, vampires still had those. They made a quick easy snack when humans weren't available, or the ones around them were too drained, or even to rejuvenate favored human servants that had been drained too much too quickly.) His blood type had been on the military dog tag he wore around his neck, as all humans had to do.

On her next day off, she paid for his time, walked over to his room, and stormed in.

He just took a shower. Good.

"Here," she said, and pushed the basket in his face.

"Qui est...?" he said with surprise.

"It's for you," she said as sternly as she could. "I bought it. Now eat it."

He looked at her in shock then looked inside.

Since vampires had taken over the world, humans primarily ate fresh produce picked from human-run farms. Processed human food made in factories and cooked meals from restaurants was as good as dead. Since vampires were masters of the world but didn't eat, and considered solid food just a means to keep their own food alive (much the way we consider grass, hay, feed, and other non-edibles essential just to keep our cows and chickens alive), they set human slaves to run produce and occasional animal farms. Said produce was distributed for humans in vampire abodes around the world to either cook or eat raw.

Since it was the middle of winter, the basket was filled with green winter produce. Green lettuce, spinach, kale, and peas. She had thought about getting broccoli, carrots, beats, and apples, but thought he looked like he hadn't eaten in so long it might be hard on his stomach. So she stuck to leafy greens that were rich in vitamins and nutrients but were light and easy to digest.

"I hear the greener something is, the healthier it is." Realizing that was overly simplistic, she added, "You look like you've lost too much blood, and leafy greens are filled with vitamins and minerals that help make more. The darker the color, the more vitamin-rich. So, I thought I'd give you that. It'll help fight the infection too, and I brought medicine and medical blood."

He looked at her in shock, and pushed them aside to see more. There was also skin ointment to treat his open wounds, fresh strips of linen to wrap up, and a few bags of medical blood of his type.

He looked at her. "You're juicing me up before you take a drink?"

She balked. The bluntness of the question just knocked the wind right out of her.

"... Yes," she finally said.

If that inspired more fear, and thus respect, and thus obedience, then sure.

"You know I have other customers, right?" he asked. "They feed of me too."

"I know," she said. "That's why I rented you for the week."

His eye and mouth widened in shock. "You did what?!"

"... I figured you needed the break," she said.

He just stared at her in shock.

"... You weren't that expensive," Seras explained sheepishly.

Honestly, the medical blood and ointment was more expensive.

When he didn't say anything else, she continued. "Look, you're in really poor shape, and I didn't know how much longer you'd last. So, you have a week off to recover. Eat your leafy greens, then move onto more hardy foods when you're ready. I've got more waiting for you. I'll treat your wounds - or you can if you want," she blushed, then took a deep breath and continued, "And I've got some medical blood to speed things up. I figure then you'll have a chance."

He let it all sink in for several minutes, just staring at the basket. Finally, he shook his head and pushed the basket away.

"Look, this is... unexpected..."

"I know," she said.

Even she was a little shocked by the impulsiveness of her decision.

With effort, he shrugged off his shock and resumed the cool nonchalance of his earlier demeanor.

"Look, if this is some misguided attempt at being noble..."

"What do you mean?" she snapped.

"Look, you're obviously new to being a vampire," he said. "So, if this is to ease your own guilt of feeding off someone..."

"It's not..." she flushed, "I just want you healthy, that's all."

"Why, so you can feed on me?"

She was silent.

He just looked at her, then closed his eyes and leaned back. "Look, if this is some misguided attempt at being nice..."

"It's not!" Seras snapped, "So just eat your vegetables!"

He snorted. "When did you become my mother?"

"When I rented you out for the week. I'm in charge when I rent your time, right? So do what I say and get healthy!"

He snorted, but this time it was in amusement.

The rest of the visit was almost as awkward as the first one. Seras' first priority was to get him to eat, so with a little half-smile he gathered the leafy greens and placed them in a large thin bowl she had placed at the bottom of the basket for this very situation.

"Isn't it a good idea to rinse them first?" he asked.

Seras hadn't thought of that, so ran the shower head over them and brought them back.

He ripped out handfuls of leaves of each kind, twisted and shredded them to make them bite-sized

"What, no salad dressing?" he teased.

"I didn't know where to find any..." she confessed.

"Are you kidding? There's plenty you can make with basic oils, spices and vinegars."

"Well, if you want to give me a recipe, I'll find it for you," she said a little peevishly.

He did just that, and she rather humbly agreed to bring some back next time she came down.

"So I still have to eat this crap?"

"Yes! It's good for you!" she retorted.

He groaned.

He was extremely hungry though. Due to his starvation the bitter leaves tasted much better than he expected, and he wolfed them down as much as he was able.

He was truly malnourished. For food, he was tossed moldy old bread, cheese, and other kitchen scraps that humans didn't eat but the vampires wanted to get rid of, and he only drank water from his shower head. More popular prostitutes with more wealthy clientele got better food, drinks, and gifts. Those with more generous clients got rewarded with treats and gifts for their exceptional services. Some vampires came into the Captain's room with fresh steaks, some came to Rip Van Winkle and other girls and brought her gift baskets of luxurious bubble bath supplies, perfume, sexy lingerie they wanted her to wear, etc.

Since he was the cheapest of the cheap, subject to the meanest and poorest of the sadistic, the best he got was a discarded cigarette or mostly empty pack after his client enjoyed a post-coital smoke. Or, if he was clever, he got packs of cigarettes as a tip for offering some insidious service that his client had not thought of.

While he was poorly fed and missed having the occasional drink to take the edge off, his tobacco addiction came first. Since his clients weren't the most generous, he was willing to forgo the chance at getting better food or alcoholic drinks if it meant getting more cigarettes.

He had long given up on even thinking it possible that a client might award him a more elaborate gift that more prestigious "prosti-dudes" got to enjoy.

Then she walked in, and propped a basket of medicine and healthy food right into his lap, after hunkering against the wall, blushing and fuming awkwardly at everything he said.

While he ate, she unwrapped the bandages. It was rather awkward for both of them (mostly her) as she unwrapped the linens and removed the ointment.

"Would you rather apply it after I leave, or should I now?"

"Do whatever you want," he said, and scooped another mouthful of smooshed greens into his mouth.

"Which would you prefer?" she demanded.

He widened his eye, then shrugged. "You can do it, I guess."

Since he just took a shower, she didn't necessarily have to run water over the injuries before applying the ointment. Still, she wetted one of the clothes and wiped the wounds before gently applying the ointment and wrapping them up with fresh linens when she could. She mostly just did this for his arms and legs. Her face felt very warm through the whole thing, especially when she got to the chest, but did so without flinching.

She surprised him again by bringing oral medicine (though only one pill) she expected him to eat with his food.

"You know too many anti-biotics at once can be bad for the body, right?" he said.

"Well then, you'd better start eating to balance it out," she said.

He blinked.

Once he was safely bandaged up, she found a clear spot on his arm, scrubbed it with a wet linen strip, and took out the medical blood, needle and IV.

"Do you know how to apply this?" he asked.

"Of course, I was a police officer once," she said.

He blinked. "I didn't know police officers received medical training."

"Of course, we've all been trained in basic first aid," she said. "And I've seen this done many times."

He blinked again, then scooted away.

"Get back here!" Seras snapped, and pulled him back.

He laughed. "Just don't shred an artery and make me bleed out, all right? I don't have much to spare."

"Why do you think I'm doing this?" she practically screamed.

"Hey, hey," he said in a calm voice, and gently placed his hand under her chin and directed her to look up at him.

She had been tense and irritable through the whole thing, despite the kind thing she was doing, and now looked extremely flustered. He was afraid she would tear up his arm trying to find the vein; but, by the same token, he had a feeling she didn't even fully realize the good thing she was doing, how little there was to be embarrassed about, and how little she had to fear from ridicule.

She finally looked into his eyes, and he saw fear, vulnerability, self-consciousness, and... concern for him. She seemed ready to cry.

He smiled gently. "It's all right, you're doing a good thing." He gently rubbed her arm. "I'm grateful for all the help, really. You don't have to feel so self-conscious. You're doing a great job, really."

She sighed, and smiled gently, and he felt there was a connection between them for the first time.

Seras wound up doing surprisingly well. She found the vein after he rubbed on his own arm to warm it up (it was cold in the dungeon), managed to stick the needle in without rupturing the vein, and indeed got the IV in. She remained until after the first medical bag was empty, and he chewed on the leaves throughout.

"It tastes like shit," he complained.

During the worst of our hunger, anything tastes good. However, the fuller and fuller we get, the more we realize how terrible something normally tastes.

"Well, eat it, it's good for you," Seras said.

He laughed. "Can do, ma cher."

"And don't call me ma cher," she snapped.

He grinned; a genuine, heart-felt, shines from the eyes smile. "All right."

With Pip fed, bandaged, given anti-biotics, and a bag of transfusion medical blood, Seras left him to get some rest.

She came in the same time every day for the next week, after every night of work was over. She gave him a new basket of food at the start of every visit. She gave him medical blood from one bag every night for the next three nights, to make sure he got enough but very slowly. He had been so drained. She also re-anointed his wounds, though she didn't necessarily have to un-bandage or clean them since he un-bandaged and rinsed himself off since he showered before she showed up, every time.

Seras noticed he didn't have any proper soap, shampoo, conditioner, or brush for his hair, so one day she brought in her daily basket.

"Bathroom soap, really?" he asked when he looked into the basket that night.

Seras blushed, but raised her head as though to say she stood by her decision.

"What, no loofa?" he teased.

"I don't even know what that is," she said.

"It's a thing where you... Oh, never mind," he said.

He saw her plain, tomboyish attire. Today she wore high-waisted jeans, a dark grey three-quarter sleeved belly shirt, and a jean jacket. She probably really didn't know what it was.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

There was still a rather tense, awkwardness between them. Seras was still embarrassed and unsure how to behave because interacting with a prostitute ("not prosti-dude," she thought) whose time she paid for was completely new territory. Pip still had no idea how to react to her because she didn't seem to know what she wanted. What's more, he was not used to a vampire who paid to drink and screw from him doing anything beyond merely biting, draining, fucking and leaving.

"Yeah..." He then smirked. "I don't suppose you want to lather me up?"

Like flipping a switch, her face instantly turned beat red. "Absolutely not!"

He laughed.

"Well, I have to use this some time, or would you rather wait till after you leave?"

"It's yours, do whatever you want with it," she said.

"Yeah, but you're paying for my time, remember? That makes you in charge," he grinned.

"Oh, must you throw everything I say back in my face?" she exclaimed.

He laughed again. She was so cute when she got flustered.

"Well, we have nothing but time to kill till you leave. So, unless you'd like to sit and watch me eat, this is as good an activity as any."

By now, it had been several days since she first came in. He no longer needed blood transfusions, his wounds had healed enough that they no longer needed constant care, and his nutrition and appetite had improved enough that he could get more hardy foods, like solid slices of whole grain bread, carrots, broccoli, beats, and apples. Such foods were hard to chew though, so Seras kindly asked the kitchen staff to cube and steam the solid vegetables before she brought them down to him.

He was rather touched by the sentiment.

"I also brought a small knife, so you can slice the apples," Seras said.

"Just do whatever you want," Seras blushed.

He grinned roguishly and scooted closer to her. "I think I will..."

"Not like that!" she snapped, and pushed him away. "Just shower if you want, I'll be outside!"

"Aw, and you don't want to see the fruits of your labors as I bathe without you?"

"I'll see you after you're done!" she said, and moved out.

He chuckled.

Pip liked seeing her flustered, but he had to admit she was a mistress of mixed messages. She did nice things for him, which he felt sure meant she wanted some favor in return, but she always refused it. She brought blood-nourishing foods and blood transfusion bags, which he felt sure meant she wanted to make him tastier for when she drank his blood - but so far she didn't bite. (Literally.) She brought ointments for his wounds, which he felt meant she wanted a chance to rub him up as foreplay while they descended into having sex - but she hissed like a cat and got extremely snappy and irritable if he tried to touch her or come onto her while she dabbed it onto his skin.

In fact, she was extremely stiff and awkward any time she came near him, yet she looked at him with desire when she stood on the other side of the room. He saw the way she blushed and ran her eyes over him like a starstruck school girl, and looked deeply hungry and licked her lips whens he saw a trickle of blood, but she tried to act like it wasn't true when he addressed it. In fact, asking her yielded mixed results. When he asked as bluntly as he dared if she wanted to do something she said no, but if he asked if she was doing it out of kindness she insisted she just wanted him healthy. He was getting healthy and she had her chance to take him, so what gives?

And now she brought proper shower supplies, which seemed like the perfect opportunity to have shower sex - and she rather predictably but confusingly snapped at him when he brought it up.

The fact that she was a vampire that rented his time was, perhaps, the only reason he didn't try to make her answer to clear the air.

Her indecision and mixed messages made a rather tense atmosphere during the first week that could have been cleared had she been able to talk more openly. Yet, little did Pip know, she was receiving far worse ridicule upstairs, and so when she came down here she was hyper sensitive to mockery and criticism, and tried so hard to put on a show of being unable to embarrass.

Being rather easy-going, Pip shrugged and let it slide.

With the new shower supplies he was able to finally able to work up a lather and finally scrub soapy, bubbly circles into his skin and hair for the first time in ages. Also to take large handfuls of conditioner and work it into his coarse, cracked, dried hair.

Washing the hair was an absolute nightmare because he had grown it so long, but had not had a chance to properly wash or comb it in forever. Over time he found it was just easier to keep it braided 24/7, so it didn't become too tangled like when it was down. Yet, it still got loose and tangled in certain places, and it was easier to just leave it alone or weave it back into the braid than try to brush it out with his fingers.

Having nothing better to do, he sat on the bed and smoked while Seras knelt behind him and brushed the dread-knots out of his hair.

"I never thought the day would come that I'd be brushed like one of your Barbies," he said.

"I never had a Barbie," Seras grimaced.

"Really? Never?"

"I couldn't stand them. I liked stuffed animals better," Seras said.

"Well then, today is your lucky day," he said, and leaned over to her grinning suggestively. "I'm like a Ken doll, but with _whooole_ package."

"Ugh, don't!" she snapped, and pushed his head forward and gave his tangles a sharp pull with the brush. "If that's the way you're going to be, you can tame this beast yourself."

"Ooooh, _tame the beast_..."

"You know what I mean!" she snapped.

He laughed and apologized. "I'm joking, I'm joking. I'm sorry, it's all right. I'll hold still, I promise."

She sighed, then got to work.

At first it was very awkward and slow-going, but since there was nothing to do, they eventually eased into a pleasant silence.

"Let me know if it hurts," Seras said, and clutched a handful near the bottom and carefully brushed at the frays.

"All right," he said.

It took extremely long though. He had been in such poor shape for so long.

Seras seemed to like having such a simple task to do though, and eventually eased into it.

When he winced a few times but didn't say anything, she said, "I told you to tell me when it hurts!"

"Heh, I've experienced worse pulls than this," he said.

"I'm sure you have, but that doesn't mean you should just suffer in silence when I hurt you," Seras said earnestly. "Tell me next time."

"All right," he said.

And she got back to work.

After a while he said, "You know, it also feels good when you run your fingers through it."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, especially when you work your way higher and higher... till you reach the top and run your fingers through the scalp. Massage slow circles, and run your fingers from top to bottom..."

He grinned, waiting for her to get the innuendo.

"All right," Seras frowned, "I'll do that when I get far enough then, but I haven't even gotten halfway up."

He laughed. She made so many double entendres and didn't even know it! It was also part of her charm.

"All right then, take your time," he grinned.

He wondered if she got that one too, but she just kept working in silence.

Part of why Pip liked talking to her was he liked testing to see how many sexual innuendos he could get away with using before she got on, got embarrassed, snapped at him, and told him to stop. He found it amusing either way. When she didn't notice and when she did, when she caught on but let it slide and when she got so embarrassed she snapped at him to stop. It was fun no matter what.

Eventually they eased into a rather comfortable silence though.

"Why do you grow your hair so long, anyway?" Seras asked.

"Eh, personal reasons - superstition, you could say. I haven't cut it since the day I became a mercenary."

She paused. "You're a mercenary?"

"Was," he admitted. "It's a family tradition. Since my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather's grandfather's time. It was bound to happen eventually."

"How awful!" Seras cried.

"Eh, it wasn't my choice," he shrugged. "I didn't choose the family I was born into. In fact, I did not even find out I was from a mercenary family until I was twelve years old, and by then I was not exactly thrilled about it. But you know, in the end, I chose to become one of my own volition. I went in knowing what the risks and consequences were, and went ahead with it anyway."

"How could you?" Seras cried, "How could you kill people?"

"Heh," he chuckled, "I asked my grandfather the same question, when I found up. But, I guess one day I figured it out. I chose to go out into battlefields all across the world, fighting in one battlefield after another, killing men and seeing my own men killed, for cheap coin and the fun of it."

"Fun? That's awful," Seras spat, and she threw his hair back.

"Heh, spoken by the vampire."

"I'VE NEVER ENJOYED IT!" Seras snapped, and he realized he'd pressed a very serious button.

He smiled sadly. He took her scorn as his due. "Yeah, well... If it makes you feel better, I'm paying for it. I went from battlefield to battlefield around the world, took up arms against many men for a number of reasons... Though one night I took on a contract with some employers, who resented the spread of vampirism. 'Day-fighters,' they called themselves. Most of my men were killed. Those that weren't died so slowly and painfully, I'll bet they wished they were every second of their wretched lives. As for me? They kept me because I'm handsome. Because I could fetch a price."

Seras was silent for a long time. She let his words seep in, and then mulled it around in her head.

Finally, she said, "No one deserves this."

He snorted, "And yet, you're here."

"Have I ever used you poorly?" she demanded, half-defensive and half-panicked.

"Non," he said gently, "quite the opposite, you..."

He trailed off.

Seras had the good graces not to ask.

After a long silence she set back to brushing his hair, her own heavy with her own thoughts.

"Do you ever hate vampires, for what we did to you?" she asked.

He thought about it for a while. How much was safe to say to her, how much was safe to say out loud. "... Sometimes..." he finally admitted, "But then again, like I said, I made the choice for myself. I made the choice to become a mercenary, and I made the choice to fight against vampires. I can't very well complain about the consequences of my actions."

"But don't you hate it?" Seras asked. "Being down here? Being a slave to... to..."

He laughed bitterly. "You do not spend this long in my line of work, and fail to find pleasure in the meanest circumstances. I've spent weeks on end fighting in the hot, humid jungles of Uganda; months in the hottest, driest sand trap you could ever imagine. I've learned to find the simple pleasures in even the ugliest circumstances; the greatest reward in the lowliest pay."

He was pouring his heart out to her, as vile and soiled as he saw it. "For a dirt-cheap piece of shit pay, I traveled from battle to battle, all around the world. For a dirt-cheap piece of shit pay, I killed and was killed. For just the pleasure of a hot meal and cold drink, I crawled through the bug-infested underbrush of the African jungle and got bit to hell when I wasn't sniped. For just the pleasure of the ugliest, stingiest whores of the most run-down crapshack of a brothel you've ever seen, I several weeks of straight fighting through straight barrages and street bombs. I still can't get the ringing out of my ears. And now, for a few cigarettes and scraps of bread, I let vampires crawl all over me, drinking my blood and ravishing my body as they bring me to masochistic orgasm."

He grimaced, "I guess you could say I was the scum of the earth when I was up there, and now the I'm scum in a vampire's basement."

"I don't think you're scum," Seras said.

Her soft, kind words touched something in him.

"Well... you'd be the first to think that. But thank you."

She hesitated, then ran her fingers through his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: It's nice not having pressure to make every chapter perfect. On the other hand, I'm sorry to take so long to update.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing.

* * *

Eventually Seras swept through his entire head of hair, which went all the way down to his knees. By now, he sat on the ground with his back leaned against the bed spring, and Seras sat on the mattress behind him and brushed out his long tresses, from scalp to split ends. Technically she could have ended it there, but she enjoyed running the brush through again and again.

"I can't remember. Don't they say you should brush a hundred times?"

"You can if you want," he said, but he was a little bias.

Strong manly man he had been in his time, this felt extremely nice. Feeling her run the brush gently through his scalp to the base of his hair and back again, again and again, felt very soothing and rhythmic. Following his talk about willingly enduring many kinds of Hell for the basest of rewards and the smallest of pleasures, he had starved and suffered in this cold, dark, concrete shit-hole with such little kindness or enjoyments for so long, that something as simple as a brush running through his hair felt very nice.

She didn't know it, but he drooped his eyelids and mentally melted into the touch, although physically he stayed upright.

Thankfully she decided to go with the hundred brush-strokes, as she had nothing better to do and nowhere else to go.

"I wonder why they made it a hundred, anyway?" Seras said at one point.

"It's to get the natural oils from your scalp to the tips of your hair," he said.

"Wha-? Really?"

"Oui," he said. "In the old days, before proper hair products, people's hair would be very oily at the top but dry and cracked at the bottom. Oil's a natural lubricant, so they would run the brush from scalp to the tip dozens of times just to work the oils from the scalp to the ends of the hair. It was just to lubricate the tips, but the 'hundred brush-strokes' rule was an easy way to do it."

"Huh, I never knew," Seras said.

He smirked. "I figured."

"Hey!" she snapped, and tugged his hair again.

He smiled and let her lull him into another trance with her gentle brushing.

Even after she was done though, Seras observed that his hair was still in poor shape.

"I don't suppose you want to trim it?" she asked.

"Nah. I haven't cut it this long, I won't start now."

"But you're not a mercenary anymore."

"I'm also not dead."

That shocked her into silence.

Since vampires didn't believe in or bother with factories, shampoos and conditioners were fairly difficult to come by. After such long neglect, his hair was very coarse, cracked, and filled with split ends anyway. He recommended using bottled oil, like olive or coconut, to lubricate it. Since coconuts were considered rather exotic and grew far away from this climate, Seras went with the olive oil and gently lathered and brushed it into his hair the next time she saw him.

Seras smiled as they worked. "You remind me of that Dothraki warlord from that book, _A Game of Thrones_."

"A game of what?"

"Hm? Oh. _A Game of Thrones_. It was a book that came out not too long before vampires took over,"* she paused. "A friend of mine checked it out at the library and told me about it afterwards. It was... too brutal for me to want to read, but she told me of the many stories and characters. One of them was a young girl whose brother married her off to a powerful barbarian warlord. She said he never cut his hair because he never lost a battle. It was so long it went down to his thighs, so he often oiled and braided it up, and the girl often helped him."

"Heh, like you're doing now," he smiled.

"Basically."

After struggling for a bit, she finally paused. "Actually, could you do it? I never learned how to braid."

He burst out laughing. "Damn straight!"

As he swept his hair aside and re-braided it, she absently placed her hand on his exposed shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

It was a small, simple touch. Yet, it affected him more than the most erotic caresses. He was silent for a long time.

"And you really think me like this warrior?" he asked.

"From what I heard, there's a passing resemblance," Seras smiled.

Men have very delicate egos, or so it's often been said, so comparing him to this fictional warlord that never lost was definitely one of the nicer things Seras could have said.

He reached his hand over so it rested on hers, which was rested over his shoulder, and he gave it an affectionate squeeze.

By the end of the week, Pip looked much better. Seras came in every day to make sure he ate well, and that his injuries were healing. His skin already looked more plump and supple from the blood transfusions, his injuries healed fairly well thanks to the better nutrition and ointment, and his auburn hair hung in a long, thick, smooth, glossy braid.

Pip was also eating much better thanks to the steady stream of food his body had long gotten used to going without. For a while, a small bowl of leafy greens alone was enough to fill him for hours. Now, he was munching down nearly all the lettuce, spinach and kale Seras brought, as well as the steamed beats, carrots and broccoli. His appetite improved so much that she brought large slices of grain bread and cheese and even a bowl of thick pea soup from the kitchen. Despite what one may think, pea soup can be quite filling; especially this one since it was made of peas mashed and simmered into a hearty broth, sautéed garlic and onions, and cubed carrots and potatoes, along with plenty of spices to make it taste very rich.

Between the bread and soup, Pip felt like he ate like a king. He moaned in pleasure as he ate it, then felt so full he yawned and stretched and slept as deeply as a giant that had feasted on men.

He became so used to having food by the end that he was able to ask for certain types he liked more.

He was eating an apple Seras had placed in his basket, when he said, "Could you bring tart apples next time?"

She turned around. "What?"

He knew she heard him, since she was a vampire, but she wanted clarification.

"In the future, when you bring more apples, could you make them more tart, like green ones? I like tart apples."

Seras smiled, and said she would.

She ran into trouble filling out that request though.

Up above ground, Seras was still a subject of ridicule among her peers. Her master was mercifully too busy with some crusade or another, so she had not seen him since the last time he told her to drink blood. She also did not have to stop to see her peers, but many of them came to her study and she knew they talked about her behind her back.

Rumor now had it that she rented out a cheap slave downstairs and went to see him every night.

At first, they were filled with praise.

"Seras! Congratulations!"

"Oh, Seras! I didn't know you had it in you."

"It feels _soooooooooo_ wonderful, doesn't it?"

"Do you mind if I come down? We can have a threesome."

"What's he like? Maybe I can have a go at him as well."

"You must like it so much. No wonder you go down there every night."

They asked her what her slave was like, and Seras honestly couldn't say because she'd barely touched him. Most of the vampires either lacked critical thinking skills or had long stopped applying them, so they just assumed she'd lost her blood innocence on casual conversation with her, and didn't stay or come closer to find out. However, on further inspection they found something was wrong with her look, scent, and demeanor for what they thought she did.

One even leaned over and sniffed her.

"You still reek of innocence."

Then word got around that Seras was still a blood virgin despite renting and spending so much time with one of the weakest slaves, and their ridicule for her increased tenfold. It's the type of shame only imaginable if applied to a situation like... like a young man getting married and never touching his wife. To put it in the bluntest terms, she was the laughing stock of the castle.

"Oh Seras, I would invite you to join me with Mona and my two slaves, but I think you'd walk away still a virgin!"

Only the three eldest Brides, who had first welcomed her by dancing and holding out their hands and beckoning to her with chants of "sister! sister!" remained somewhat civil. Their age made them the most vague, indulgent, and nymphomaniac (they practically crawled on their hands and knees and groveled up their master's body whenever he returned from battle), but it also, strangely, made them most lacking in human nastiness. They accepted all of their "brothers and sisters," even if they were foolish blood virgins.

Yet, when Seras went to the kitchen and filled her basket with food meant for the humans, and they found her filling it with the tart apples she had requested, even they had to object.

"What does he give you for all those treats?" one Bride asked.

Seras wondered how she was lucid enough to ask.

"Nothing," she answered honestly.

"Ooooh, darling, that will not do..." she said as she glided over to Seras, her gossamer gown trailing behind her. "He is only a human that earns his keep through his services to us. If you give him something so wonderful for nothing in return, it will go to his head and create dissension."

"I don't think you know what that means," Seras said, and grabbed another apple to place in her basket.

Soon, there was something of an attempted intervention for Seras among the eldest Brides.

"Darling, you mustn't spoil your human so, or he will try to take advantage of you."

When they learned that Seras asked the kitchen humans if they could please find her tart apples, they felt affronted on many levels. Asking humans instead of telling? And what were the new apples for?

"He really likes them," Seras said.

They felt this would not do at all.

"Honey... honey... you mustn't do that!"

"The moment you start serving him instead of you, things will go awry..."

"He'll start using you, tricking you."

"He'll try to get all he can out of you..."

"I don't think he will," Seras said, but she wasn't so sure.

"Honey, honey, it's not that simple. We are the masters and they are the slaves. As soon as you start treating them otherwise, they'll start treating you like the slaves."

They explained that the way things worked was that vampires were the masters and humans were the servants. They maintained this by always ensuring humans served them and they took what they wanted from them. The moment they started giving humans what they wanted, asking for nothing in return, they risked upsetting the balance of power. They risked humans starting to think they were in charge, they could start making orders, then they could start thinking they could get things from vampires without giving anything in return.

"He'll start using you and manipulating you for his own ends..." one said mysteriously.

"He won't!" Seras cried.

"Really? Then he won't try testing to see what he can get away with?"

Seras faltered. She couldn't say "no" for certain. He had been trying to inch closer and closer to her; using more innuendos, seeing how far he could get with the dirty talk before she snapped at him to be quiet or back up.

"He won't try pushing to see what he can get out of you?"

Seras could see that he wanted sex, even though it made her vastly uncomfortable. Any time she did anything nice for him, he would inch closer and closer, try to segue into more intimate words and embraces. He only backed up when she told him to back up, but always tested when she started to let her guard down.

"He didn't start requesting more favors or presents after you started doing more favors than before?"

She thought of his request for her to bring crisper, tarter apples. While he often complained, he usually ate whatever she gave him and applied whatever medicine, transfusion blood and shower supplies she brought without any comment.

The Brides began circling around Seras as they whispered and insinuated.

"This is how it all starts..." one said.

"First he acts grateful and harmless enough..."

"Then he starts pushing to see how much more he can get away with..."

"Start asking to see how much more he can get from you..."

"Then he'll start taking more and more, giving less and less..."

Thank goodness, this was the wrong thing to say. Seras instantly snapped out of her reverie and realized what they were doing.

"I don't want anything from him," she said, and broke out of the circle and left the room.

"You can't fight the truth, Seras!" they called after her.

Seras tried to shake their words out of her head, but they had planted the seed of doubt and it had taken root.

Regardless, Seras entered his room with the basket of food like she did every night, with the tart apples he liked among them. He looked genuinely grateful, and bit into it first thing. The concrete walls echoed with the crunch of his teeth chomping into the crisp, tart apples.

"Oh, fuck me, these are delicious," he said when most of the first apple was almost completely devoured. "Merci."

"Don't mention it," she said.

He ate the entire apple all the way down to the core, and reached for another one.

Seras was so glad she selected the right kind, but she also felt guilty to bring only a few. She had wanted to leave room for other foods in the basket, but since he was eagerly eating through all three with no sign of stopping, she felt bad for not bringing more. She also watched him enjoying eating his food (no longer just a necessity not to die), and vaguely envied him. She wished she could eat with him - er, like him.

"I'm sorry not to bring you more," Seras said.

"Eh, what are you sorry for? You didn't have to bring them at all."

"I know, but..." When he didn't interrupt her, as she was so used to being interrupted, she said, "Well, if I was going to bring you anything, I should have brought more.

"Hey, some are better than none," he said, and pulled out the last apple. "I'm grateful for the ones you did bring."

Pip was a good sport about it though. When the apples were gone he again thanked her genuinely, then reached for something else in the basket.

Seras sighed in relief, then sat on his bed more comfortably, and enjoyed his company for the rest of the day. In the back of her mind, she remembered what the Brides said about the human trying to manipulate and use her, to take advantage of her and get what he could out of her. It was hard to forget, but she tried to put it out of her mind. She was a bit alert for any request, but for the most part she didn't see any harm if he did. She enjoyed his company, and if his life was so wretched down here that a few crisper, tarter apples made it less terrible, she was happy to do it.

The tense awkwardness of her first few visits was largely gone. The conversation they had while she brushed the snarls out of his hair had largely cleared the air, and forged a deeper connection. Seras still sometimes worried if he hated vampires for what they did to him, and felt complicit in his slavery since she was paying to see him too, but still... things were very pleasant.

He was good company.

Certainly much better than the vampires upstairs, who only talked of trivial things like blood, pleasure, and slaves.

Pip was also very perverted, often made dirty jokes, talked about past sexcapades, and twisted many conversations into being about whether they'd do it, but otherwise... he was very nice.

All too soon, the week was up and he would have to go back to work. It made Seras so worried that she lay wide-awake in her coffin, unable to go into her supernatural sleep during the day.

On her last visit she arrived with her basket of food, and when she saw him she thought he looked really good. His flesh was soft and supple with blood, his wounds either healed or became minor enough that they had stopped bleeding, and his skin largely cleared up thanks to good nutrition and hygiene. He was still rather thin - she could still see his ribs, collar and hip bones, but his skin was not drawn so tightly around his bones as they had been. His face was also not so gaunt, and he didn't have purple shadows under his eyes.

Then she thought about how his week was up, and he would soon go back to the mercy of other vampires. She feared all her work that week would be undone, and he would go back to being drained, bruised, injured, slashed, bitten, and savaged as though by wild animals.

It must have showed on her face, because he said, "You're worried about tomorrow night?"

"What?" she asked.

"You're looking at me the way you did when you first came here, before all this," he gestured to the life-saving food and medicine, "Now your week's rental is almost up, and I have to go back to work tomorrow. I figure, that's probably what you're worried about."

"I... well, that's true, yes," she admitted.

"It doesn't have to end, you know," he said.

"I'll ask Narissa if I can rent more time. I don't want you to go back the way you were."

"Oh, I don't

He leaned closer to her, which made her chest and face feel warm all over. He also placed his hand on her thigh and leaned in for a kiss.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded.

"I just thought we should enjoy our last night together."

"But we are!"

"Are you sure? Is this why you healed me?"

"Of course!"

He was confused. "To enjoy in bed or conversation?"

"I... I don't know!" she ducked out from under him and stood a reasonable distance away.

He sighed. "Why did you heal me?"

"Because I just want to talk to you, that's all!"

He blinked.

"I... I don't know. There's no one to talk to upstairs, so I just... I don't know..."

After a respectable silence, he said, "Why didn't you just tell me?"

She couldn't answer. She remembered her master's order to drink blood, and felt the urge, even now. But, she felt like she would be taking advantage of him if she did. His life wasn't his own and he had no freedom, no choice in who took him and who didn't. Who fed from him and who didn't. She remembered how drained and dehydrated he had been, and felt like she wouldn't be any better than the other vampire women that used him so horribly to make him that way in the first place. She felt she would take advantage of him.

Her blinding hunger kept bringing her back. If she fed from anyone or anything, she thought maybe it could be him...? But she couldn't drink from him until she gave back enough in return. And for now, Seras felt she hadn't given enough back to justify drinking from him. He still needed so much more; more food, more healing, more luxuries.

Seras' human emotions and vampire instincts were horribly tangling and clashing. On the one hand, for vampires drinking blood was akin to enjoying sexual gratification. Some deep cardinal part of Seras realized it too. Since she feared and shunned sexual relations as a mortal, she also shunned both it and blood drinking as a vampire. Her human sensibilities felt that if she drank blood from anyone, it had to be the right person, in the right time and the right place...

Like waiting to lose her virginity to the right man, Seras thought sadly.

And of all the people of every species she had encountered since she was turned, she felt Pip was the closest fit. She just couldn't explain it; when she even thought about drinking blood from someone else, her insides ran cold. No. She felt no desire to do it. But when she thought of drinking from him, she felt she could. Her teeth ached, her insides writhed, and a deep gnawing hunger from deep within longed to be filled. Yet, when her vampiric self reared at the opportunity to bite and drink and lay with him, her human side felt equally repulsed and horrified. She just couldn't do that to him. Take him and leave. She might as well be a common thug. Especially since he was so weak, starved, and abused already. She felt like just one more of his abusers, taking advantage of his vulnerability by drinking him and leaving him. So, she felt she had to do something nice first to make up for it.

If she was going to drink his life essence to sustain her own, she should provide something nice to sustain his, she thought.

She just couldn't drink from him till then, if she did at all. A huge part of Seras didn't want to drink from him, and half of her felt she never would. But, some small part kept compelling her to come back, and she felt she shouldn't do so without giving her share first. And so far, she hadn't paid enough. Part of her felt guilty, like the only reason she was giving him all these nice things was because she just wanted cardinal blood from him in return, and that's a horrible thing to do. People shouldn't do kind things for each other just for something in return. So, even though her craving for blood kept compelling her to come back, she refused to answer it. Instead, she answered her human morality and just kept giving him nice things without asking for anything in return, almost to prove to herself she wasn't the user or monster her Superego accused her of being.

But, that wasn't doing very well either, because he seemed to expect her to take him like a vampire would and she wouldn't do that either. It was just an awkward situation for them both.

"You all right?" Pip asked.

She snapped out of her reverie, and realized she had just been sitting there.

"Sorry, lost in thought, I guess."

"I can see," he said. "Care to share?"

Her deadpan glare said it all.

Seras was worried about that too. He had improved so much in the time she'd rented him, but now his regulars were getting antsy and even Narissa was impatient for him to get back to work. Seras approached her hoping to ask for more time, but

"I've still rented you out for half the night for the next three nights," Seras said, "So no matter what, at least you'll get a break."

One unforeseen consequence of Seras taking such good care of Pip was that he rose in price. Because he was much handsomer and healthier, some of his old regulars got extremely put out. When they realized they couldn't slash and maim him back into submission, they moved onto other prostitutes who fit the bill. Even those individuals were not completely without hope, because Seras secretly sent baskets of food, medicine, soap, and other _basic_ odds and ends to their room too. Pip was the only one she visited, but he wasn't the only one who had _some_ helping hand to let him know _someone_ cared.

When Seras left his room one evening, Narissa was standing there. Her fingers absently twiddled her large bead necklace, and her eyes were thoughtful.

"He seems to be getting much juicier since you've been with him."

Seras winced at her choice of words. "I guess you could say that."

"I might even be able to recommend him to better clients. Murielle really likes her men large, strong, and pumping hot, you see. And she's always on the lookout for a new one."

Seras' own face grew very hot at the description. Then it felt cold and drained of blood when Narissa seemed to wait for her to respond.

"You're asking me?"

"Just curious, that's all."

"... Okay..." Seras said warily.

Narissa still didn't move; just looked at his door thoughtfully. Unsure how to respond, Seras left.

The next time she saw Pip, he was in a better room with much better furnishings. It wasn't as good as the Captain, but he did get a bed that wasn't broken, a dresser with three drawers instead of two, a shower separated from the rest of the room with a curtain, and had warm running water. The running water was the best of all, he said later.

He also had some new clothes. When Seras walked in, he was dressed in a clean set of trousers instead of the ratty old ones she was used to, and wore a very nifty looking Australian cowboy hat.

"Howdy, ma'am," he teased.

"Oh!" Seras cried, and blushed.

"You like it?"

"I... yes. Pardon me, I've never seen that before."

"It was a gift, from another client."

Her gut clenched with jealousy. Another client? Another client got him something?

"R-really?" she asked, and tried to sound vaguely curious.

"Yup. We were enjoying a post-coital smoke, when I happened to bring up a similar experience when I was in Australia. When I happened to mention I'd been in the Outback, she said I must look really sporting in one of those hats. When I said I once had one, she brought me one on her next visit."

"Oh..." Seras said, and couldn't hide her disappointment. "I didn't know other vampires were buying presents for humans."

He laughed. "Jealous, ma cher?"

"I'm not, and don't call me ma cher!" she cried.

He grinned, and shrugged. "Looks like you started a new trend, ma cher."

"What do you mean?"

She still hovered by the door, and held onto the doorknob absently.

He leaned back in bed, as nonchalant as could be. With his new muscled torso, thick trousers, and impressive cowboy hat, he made an amazing silhouette. "Vampires used to think of the dungeons as places to reap pleasure instead of giving it. Come down, extract as much blood and sex as they wanted, then leave. Then they saw - well, heard from Narissa - that you giving gifts and food makes some of us shittier slaves taste better, last longer, and feel better in bed. Naturally, they pay good money to have us en want to suck every last penny they can out of us. Pun intended, by the way."

"I noticed," Seras frowned.

"So," he said casually, and folded his hands behind his head, "Most of them have servants anyway. It costs them nothing to give us an extra boost, at greater pleasure to them."

"I thought the whole reason they came down here was because they got tired of being considerate of servants?" Seras asked.

"They do, but up there, they have to take care of them. Make sure they're fed, clothed, given blood when they drink too much. Down here? They can be as rough as they want, fuck, drink, en leave. Then the madam en servants take care of the rest. Still, for one visit, one little gift does more good than it costs."

"Oh..."

In her own way, Seras was disappointed. She was very happy for him and the others, but being the only vampire that brought presents and caring about their overall well-being... well... made her special. Seras helped humans like Pip, brought conversation and nice things when the other vampires just used drained and left. Now, they were talking, treating him better, and giving him nice things too? What did that leave her as? The one vampire that wouldn't screw him, and now had the lamest stuff?

Pip laughed. "Don't hide your disappointment or anything."

She flushed furiously. "I'm not!"

That was all that was said on the subject because Seras would not say any more, but she did feel ashamed of herself.

She was glad Pip was doing really well for himself; she really was. She started helping him because she wanted him to do well. At the same time, though...

Another unforeseen consequence of Seras taking such good care of Pip and making him more valuable was that his price went up. She could no longer rent him out for a week, or a whole day, or even every day. Soon, her daily visits dwindled down to one visit every few days. When she wasn't visiting him, she was working to pay for the next one.

When she missed him dreadfully when she couldn't go down, and felt her heart flutter when she finally made it.

He seemed surprised to see her too. "I missed you yesterday," he said.

"I'm sorry. I had to work to afford another visit," she removed her jacket and hung the basket on the coat-hanger by the door. "You're becoming more popular now, you know that?"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he said, as he lit a cigarette.

Seras was about to protest. Then he smirked at her, and she realized he had been teasing.

Being away from each other for a day helped them appreciate the other more. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" and all. Seras brought him goodies no one else did, despite how Narissa was now bringing him better food, and Pip was arguably the only person in the castle Seras could talk to. But it went deeper than that and they both knew it, but neither would say it out loud.

She feared again what would happen to him when she wasn't around, but again, Narissa took good care of him. Because he was bringing in the dough, she was willing to spare a little for him. Give him blood transfusions, medicine and basic luxuries. Seras was glad... but on the other hand she also felt he had no need of her anymore.

She saw him once every two to three nights, and in that time he only grew bulkier and healthier. When Seras first saw him, he had highly bruised, slashed up, chalky, greasy, and infected skin pulled taut over an all-too-visible skeleton. By the end of the first week, his skin was made up of mostly recovered slashes and bruises pulled lightly over his skeleton. His skin and hair were glossier than ever, and while he was still thin and while every rib was still visible, the skin stretched softly over his bones and not harshly.

This was partly because he had gone without proper food in so long that most of Seras' first week with him had been spent getting his body used to eating at all. Now that he was used to eating and Narissa was feeding him more, he could eat more hardy foods, and he could also eat larger amounts of it, he was bulking out wonderfully. Most of his ribs had vanished, and he had enough carbs to convert to muscle.

When clients weren't around, there also wasn't much for him to do down there but work out (much like bored prison inmates, Seras thought wryly), and it showed beautifully.

Seras once entered his room to find him clutching the top of the doorframe with his hands, and pull himself up and down.

"Oh, hey!" he said when he saw her.

"Hello yourself," she said.

"Yeah, I get a hard-on working out."

"What?"

"Nothing."

He thought she was saying "Hello yourself" to his... ah... but she really had just been addressing him. No way he was going to explain that embarrassing quirk of his male body to an innocent girl who didn't understand most double entendres and still refused to so much as kiss him.

When he finished worked out, he let himself fall to the ground with a loud "THUD!" then straightened and stood before her. Despite her innocence, she ogled and practically drooled over him. He wore only a pair of thick military cargo pants and combat boots. His bare torso gleamed with muscles and sweat, with his long braid clinging to his sweat-covered skin.

Seras stopped breathing. He was so tall, bulky, and handsome. By now, he was covered in rippling muscles as well as healing scars, and the cowboy hat, thick jeans and military trousers he wore accentuated this new handsome appearance.

Pip spotted her ogling him, and smirked. "Like what you see?"

She snapped out of it. "No!" she snapped automatically, then blushed. "I-I mean, yes. Well, you do look handsome!"

Pip chuckled.

"Aw, ma cher, I'm touched. You know I do all this for you."

"Like hell you do!" Seras snapped, then she huffed as she held out her nightly basket.

He laughed and accepted it. "For me? I'm touched! It isn't even my birthday."

"Keep talking like that and you might not live to see the next one!" she snapped before she could help herself.

His smile sobered. "Yeah, you don't say."

Seras winced.

"I mean, I'll punch your lights out so you sleep right through it!"

He laughed. "Is that a fact?"

"Yeah, that's a fact!" she flushed.

He grinned, shook his head, and motioned for her to sit on the bed. She accepted the invitation gratefully, and he ate the food she brought while they talked.

He seemed to like her visits on the whole, even though she was no longer bringing him nice things that other people weren't, and she also wasn't bringing him... well... what he seemed to want. He still flirted and mock-kissed her, and Seras still got moody and uncomfortable. He always laughed it off, so he seemed to take it in stride.

He seemed to like her visits good and well, and Seras liked coming to visit him too. Her heart swelled and her teeth ached, but she suppressed her vampire hunger so she could just enjoy his company without ruining it with... well. ("Monster" flashed through Seras' mind.) They often sat on opposite ends of the room and just talked. The tension and awkwardness slowly melted away and they both knew what the other wanted from them. By now, it became pretty clear to Pip that Seras wasn't going to suck on him and Seras knew Pip wasn't going to try to initiate contact if she didn't, and so they just eased into pleasant conversations.

Seras liked talking to him. He was very casual and nonchalant, but sharp as a tack. He was very insightful, she liked bringing up different things.

"You're not blushing today," he said one visit.

Her face instantly went red on the comment.

"Now you are," he grinned.

"Oh! You jerk!" she flushed.

He chuckled, "I know, terrible."

He seemed happier on the whole, which made Seras happy. There was something of an edge when Seras first came down, which was understandable considering what he had went through. There was trace of understandable bitterness, and hardness. Now he was either really good at hiding it, or his life down here was going well enough that it didn't need to be present.

Seras found her heart melt whenever she came to see him. She felt a... fondness being around him that hadn't been present before, and she wondered if he felt it for her too. Probably not. In fact, Seras felt sure not. He treated her with casual friendliness that she felt sure was just nonchalant. He was probably like this with all his clients, since good service yielded better money, more visits, and less of a likeliness to get slashed or broken for his insolence.

While she knew logically what his job entailed and how she would no doubt have to participate some day, if her master and sisters had anything to say about it, she was still unprepared for the reality of the act.

One night, Seras came down to see him during what she thought was their scheduled hour. Her girlish heart compelled her to fill the nightly basket with that she thought was a really pleasant treat. It had the usual healthy foods they were used to, only she also added blocks of gourmet cheese and a bottle of wine. She had heard French people tended to like that sort of thing, but through conversation with Pip she found he liked them good and well too. She thought it was a nice treat and something to enjoy; not a romantic gesture, she thought.

Since he had a new room surrounded by many doors with equally pleasurable activities, she came to feel the noises were normal as she walked down the hall. She also misheard where the sounds were coming from until it was too late. She opened the door and immediately balked at what she saw.

Pip Bernadotte, the human she had grown so attached to, wore nothing but his cowboy hat and a pair of riding chaps and was being ridden relentlessly by one of the vampire women. One of the women who Seras saw more often every day.

She thought she heard Pip say something, perhaps acknowledge the new guest, or perhaps it was just her imagination.

Mortified, temporarily blinded, Seras shot back, felt her head might pop from the rush of blood to her cheeks or projectile vomit from nausea and horror at what she had witnessed, and ran up the stairs, feeling ever like the fool.

* * *

Why is it that every time things start to go well for Seras and Pip, I feel this need to throw a wrench in at the bottom of the chapter?

*George R. R. Martin's _A Game of Thrones_, the first installment of _A Song of Fire and Ice_, was published in 1996. Kohta Hirano's Hellsing takes place in 1998. This is a sort of alternate universe that takes place around that time too, so _A Game of Thrones_ would technically have been published and out and about at that time, even if it wasn't as popular as it is now.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: A Valentine's Day gift to my patient readers who have to put up with such long waits.

Also, be warned, the "M" of the M rating is going to be abused for all it's worth this chapter. Don't like blood, gore, prostitution, rape, or torture? I'd recommend another fic.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing.

* * *

Seras was too embarrassed to return. While she had known logically what Pip's job entailed, she was not ready to see it up close. It was too raw and personal for her. And she felt all the more like a fool for not being ready. For running away.

All the teasing she'd ever received for being a foolish, pathetic, priggish, prudish little _virgin_ flooded her mind, and it was too much to bear.

She saw every incredulous, mocking, sneering face she had ever received when someone learned she was a virgin—and there were enough that she felt her mind was flooding with a sea of them. Her mind drowned and bobbed and struggled in the sea of incredulous faces… and she imagined Mr. Bernadotte's face with them.

He'd seen her balk and run, she was sure of it. How pathetic he must think her.

If she had just seen from behind a closed door or slipped silently away, she felt she could go back and face him. But part of her felt sure he had seen her—seen her balk and flee like a child. It shamed and humiliated her. He must think her such a foolish, pathetic little _blood virgin_. She couldn't go back and face him.

She sat alone in her room in the dark, trying hard not to cry. She couldn't go out and face other vampires, because she was sure they would mock her relentlessly. They now openly laughed at her where once they just teased and whispered behind her back. She kept trying to tell herself she didn't like them, respect them, or care what they had to say… but still, it was hard.

And it was hard to imagine he didn't find her as useless and pathetic as they did. He'd come onto her so many times in the time since she met him, even when she made it clear she didn't buy his time to do… that… so he must have already found her so ridiculous and childish before. Now he saw her balk and run, so he must find her so…

She thought of all their time together, and how far he'd risen since they'd met. She'd once consoled herself with the knowledge that she was the only vampire who was kind to him, listened to him, talked to him, gave him food and gifts where other vampires just used him and left. But now the other vampires were showering him with food and gifts too—much nicer ones than even she could afford—as well as giving him the sexual release she now felt sure he craved. What did he need her for?

She spied the discarded basket of treats and cheeses and wine she had foolishly… foolishly…

She placed a hand over her face and wept.

Down in the dungeons, Pip kept his eyes on the ceiling, and took a drag of his cigarette. His gaze was as focused as if he were searching or waiting for something, but also one of casual indolence. He never did anything with much energy anymore (except things that required his enthusiasm and exertion…), not since his men had been slaughtered and he had been dragged starving and bleeding away from the sun, thrown into a dark dungeon to rot.

Or at least, so he had thought.

For weeks, or perhaps months (it certainly felt like the latter), he'd been kept in a pitch-black dungeon, with no light except the faintest glow of torch light from the hallway. This faint glow came in only through the sliver of his metal jail door, which only opened when they threw moldy scraps for him to eat, or when a vampire strolled in to grab him, bite him, suck on him, use him, sometimes scratch him to hell, then leave.

All rage had been spent screaming futilely and pounding his fists bloody and raw against the hard metal door and cold stone walls, which elicited nothing but echoes if he was lucky, mocking laughter from beyond his cell if not. His anguish once drew a female vampire who had come down for another toy, but now felt drawn to play with him once she'd heard his screams.

The metal door had slammed open abruptly, which startled him. A female vampire had stood in the doorway. He couldn't see her clearly; just the silhouette of a female vampire with a buxom figure, and long curly hair.

"Well, you're all fired up," she'd purred, and slammed the door closed again with her foot, leaving them both drowned in darkness. (Well, him, he later realized; vampires could see just fine in the dark.) She began stalking toward him, panting and moaning. "I was coming down for another toy, but I think you'll do just fine, plaything."

She'd grabbed him and shoved him to the ground. No sooner was he down did she straddle his hips and press her body against his, panting and moaning in pleasure. She ran her hands over his chest, ripping his already tattered shirt away as she plunged her fangs into his neck, sucking hard. Despite his terror and helplessness at being grabbed and shoved and violated by an unknown creature in pitch black, even his body couldn't resist the lure of a buxom woman panting and moaning and rubbing her body against his (by now, whatever fabric might have covered her breasts had been pulled away and she'd rubbed her pert nipples against his chest), nor the arousal of a vampire's kiss. He quickly grew hard under her attention, and as he did he could feel her roughly pull down his trousers and then take him into her soft center.

No sooner was he forced inside her did she moan and groan desperately, and ride him as relentlessly as a two-bit pony. She kept her teeth locked firmly onto his neck and sucked and sucked as she thrust her hips against his again and again. She dug her long, sharp nails into his skin and pulled her teeth away so she could moan and groan with greater recklessness and urgency as her thrusts grew faster and harder . She'd grabbed his hips and tried to force him deeper inside her as her thrusts grew as fast and as hard as she could make them; then she'd plunged her teeth back into his neck and sucked as that wild moment of ecstatic groans and wild spasms consumed her.

The moment she finished she shoved him aside and stood up, no doubt straightening whatever clothes she still wore.

"Mmmm," she'd moaned in satisfaction. "You'll do quite nicely, plaything."

And with that, she'd left him to bleed alone in the dark.

Shame and humiliation and helplessness and terror and violation and filth and nausea didn't even begin to describe the emotions that flooded him after that first cession. He felt despoiled and violated, body and soul. At that moment he'd wanted to kill himself, but there was nothing in his little stone prison to kill himself with. No rope, no blades, no metal pipes to bash his own head in. He felt around in the dark for anything. He felt nothing but a busted up old bed spring and a thin mattress to sleep on, and a metal thing sticking out of the wall, which he soon learned was the handle to a shower head that stuck out of the ceiling. The water was ice cold, and he soon learned there was no way to change the temperature, but a little water was better than no water. Sadly, there wasn't even enough to drown in; just enough to freeze or rinse as much shame and filth off himself than he could.

The shower water also made him feel like there were no tears to cry.

However, he eventually realized that the more he screamed and cried, the more vampires heard him from outside and came in to seek their pleasure from him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, finally learning that he was in an underground whorehouse where vampires came to ride their toys and leave.

It became effective aversion therapy, realizing that the more of a fuss he made the more vampires came in to hurt and harm him.

Most of them were like his first client—already wound up like springs and just needing a little trigger like him to make them snap.

Others were much more hostile and demanding; expecting him to turn out good bed tricks to get them off, and then beat him or slashed him if he couldn't. While part of him always hoped to die in their coupling, no human truly likes sudden and unprovoked pain, so he quickly (if subconsciously) learned used his _exceptional_ experience from countless visits to brothels to make them moan the first time.

Their satisfied purrs and moans were some of the few scraps of pleasure he himself could derive in these circumstances, and he learned to derive what little pride and pleasure he could in a place like this.

Of course, the act of beating or slashing at him always turned them on, whether he was good or not. He had the grave misfortune to encounter a vampire woman who could _only_ be turned on through violence and suffering, and she made him scream like a torture victim before she took her pleasure of him and left.

After each encounter he was mildly surprised that he didn't die during intercourse, and even disappointed that he didn't. Without fresh food or sun, and with him getting scratched and bitten and sucked to hell, he fully expected he would die soon.

Eventually he came to accept he wasn't going to die right away, though feeling confident that he would die soon enough gave him all the solace he needed not to go mad with grief, and he resigned himself to his fate.

Eventually he numbed himself to his emotions, and learned to scrape by as much pleasure as he could from his circumstances on the way to his grave. The act of coupling with vampire women certainly required that he be aroused for it, so he learned to focus on the pleasure of arousal and numb/suppress the shame, humiliation, and violation that came with it.

While they all came in the dark and he could not see them, he imagined all the women who came to him were beautiful. They all certainly had beautiful voices and moans. Deep moans, soft sighs, throaty groans, breathless gasps, ecstatic screams; the sounds alone were enough to make a man come just sitting alone in his room, and he chose to focus on that as they raped him. He tried to participate back, when they let him, and focused on doing what he could elicit those sighs, moans, groans, and screams when they were not doing it themselves. He found that when he did they tended to respond positively, or at least focus on having sex with him instead of biting or hurting him as a means to get themselves off. The sooner and more easily he could get them off, the less pain inflicted on him.

One vampire woman enjoyed a smoke even as they did it. He could see the embers burning in the dark, and focused in on it. Not just because it was the only light in a room, which drew his eye like a tiny fish in the deepest darkest seas, but because it was a cigarette. He had been _shaking_ from nicotine withdrawals.

The vampire woman took a deep drag of her cigarette and laughed, "You want some of this, mortal?"

He hadn't trusted himself to speak, though his auditory gulp must have been confirmation enough.

She laughed. "I'll give some of this to you, if you give some of this to me…" and she'd rolled over to show him what she wanted him to give to her.

It was the filthiest thing he'd ever done since he got here, but when he inhaled his lungful of pure bliss, it was all worth it.

He learned to offer bed tricks to other vampire women who might have cigarettes, and if he was lucky they rewarded him for his services instead of reaping their pleasure from him and leaving.

He learned to try to enjoy whatever little moments he could find in their visits. He had one client whose moans were soft and breathless, and whose touches were gentle and feather-light. She even gave him a blow job before bringing him back to arousal with a vampire's kiss (which always seemed to make one ready for action, no matter how tired or turned off they were before) and riding him to ecstasy.

He was less lucky with the one who came after, who bit and scratched him in so many places he feared he'd bleed to death, then grew frustrated with her own lack of arousal from his silent pain. She went between his legs and started to pleasure him, but then bit him so suddenly he'd almost blacked out, terrified that she'd bitten it clean off. His terror and pain was what she finally needed to get off, and she mounted him and rode him (painful as it was for him) to her own ecstasy.

Her climax had been so violent she'd slashed into him in her moment of triumph, then left him with deep gashes as she crawled out and left. She didn't even shut the door properly on her way out.

He was left alone with his own numb pain and resentment. Slowly, lethargically, he'd checked to make sure his Johnson was still intact. Seeing that it was so, if bloody, he'd slowly, painfully pulled up his trousers and leaned against the wall, sweating and exhausted from the exertion. He'd then pulled out the cigarette that had been a gift from another client, trying to numb his emotions further with smoke from a burning cigarette.

It was in this state that he heard Narissa, the madam, leading another vampire down his hall, on her way to a better one.

He'd overheard a few such tours from the madam, who always tried to steer new clients to the most expensive ones. Not that it mattered to him—it's wasn't any of their choice in being here, or who came to visit them.

He'd glared at the little vampire fledgling, who he would have taken for a boy had it not been for the huge bosom he saw in silhouette.

With all this in mind, was it any wonder that he didn't expect anything to come of her visit?

I mean, sure, it was surprising when Narrissa stuck her face through the door, and said harshly, "You've been reserved tomorrow at three to four."

He'd just stood there numbly. "What…?"

"The little vampire—Seras—she wants to take a turn with you. She already had a good turn with the Captain, but for God only knows what reason she wants a tumble with you too. Reserved an hour for it and everything."

His first instinct was terror. Most of his clients were in, out, and over in minutes. What did she want to do to him that would take a whole hour? (All of his other clients had all been violent.) Then he thought maybe whatever she did to him would finally kill him by the time she was done, and he found solace in it.

"Well?!" Narissa snapped.

Pip had no idea what she had expected him to do or say to that. What could he do or say? "Sure"? "No problem"?

"Be serious!" she snapped, and stepped in. "She already had a taste of the best of the best, and now she's following up with a worthless little worm like you! What's she to think? She'll never want to come back! You give her the best time a flaccid little worm like you can give her, or I'll eviscerate you myself, understood?"

Sounded like a win-win to him.

With that going in he knew the fledgling, Seras, was a bit of an innocent, but he didn't expect much besides the usual fucking and biting and sucking and leaving. Perhaps she'd be a little gentler than the others, but he doubted it. She'd rented him for an _hour_, after all. She could do a lot of damage in that time.

Of course, he had no idea how time went on down here in this endless night, so he had to be ready at all times. When she finally arrived, he was showered and ready to go. He even wore nothing but his boxers to give her easier access.

He fully expected her to jump him any minute when she arrived, but apparently she liked watching from a distance.

He'd even sat on the bed and propped himself up, showing off his chest and legs and neck to their best advantage. It was too dark for him to see, except the silhouette of a buxom woman in the doorway. He fully expected her to crawl all over him and have her way with him. Perhaps she would start with nibbling and fondling him, perhaps she'd nip and grope, or perhaps she would bite and scratch her way to release. Either way, all scenarios ended with her reaping her pleasure and leaving.

Instead, she didn't seem interested in doing anything but sitting and staring at him.

This had puzzled Pip greatly. He'd taken a deep drag of his cigarette to calm himself and tried to stare back in the dark, wondering what could she possibly want to do that involved sitting staring at him for a long time?

The visit soon took a turn for the worst since the vampire fledgling wouldn't do anything, then snapped at him when he tried to make suggestions. He probably shouldn't have bothered, but all vampiresses who came in here wanted a little blood, or carnal flesh, or both. It simply didn't happen that they came in and nothing happened. By rights, she should be orgasming now.

Trying to help her decide the best course of action in having her way with him just made her angry, though, and she stormed out, furious.

Unfortunately, Narissa didn't keep her promise to eviscerate him for failing to please the girl, and he was still alive in his cell, waiting to die.

Never, in his wildest dreams, did it ever even occur to him that this strange vampire fledgling who had her first night with the best the dungeon had to offer and her next night with the worse it had to offer, without touching him, would turn up and plop a basket full of life-saving food, medicine, and blood in his lap.

He couldn't contain his shock at her sudden charity…

Although he hoped he managed to contain his disappointment that she was depriving him of his desire to die.

He knew better than to show ingratitude to a vampire woman who bestowed kindness on him (the retaliation would be brutal, from both her and from Narissa), and he knew even better than to let on his secret desire to expire down here. His neighbor had learned the hard way.

He'd heard screaming from a poor, miserable sap somewhere down the hall, wailing and screaming at them to kill him. Apparently he made a go at himself or something, because next Pip heard they'd tied him up so he couldn't hurt himself, and tortured him extensively, day after day, until the dungeons were filled with unending screaming for days. They only stopped when other clients complained that his screaming cut into their own time with their whores. Then things became quiet. But had they killed him? Oh no. They'd just rendered him mute so they could still inflict their torture on him without disturbing other clients. He overheard Narissa and her assistant talking about how they also gave him blood and fluids to keep him alive. He wasn't allowed to die.

Now, when Pip listened carefully, he could still heard the muffled but heart-wrenching moans of pain from down the hall.

Vampires were cruel, heartless, sadistic monsters. When they knew someone wanted to live, they killed them just for fun and spite. When they found out someone wanted to die, they ensured they lived but inflicted even more pain and suffering on them than they already had, to make their desire for death that much stronger but so much less obtainable.

Pip _dared_ not even _hint_ at his true wish, so he had to accept her gifts with good grace. He had to act like he wanted to live, hoping someone would be cruel enough to end his life.

But… was that why she gave him these? Did she guess that his true wish was death and she was only mocking him with presents to preserve his life to rub in the fact that he couldn't die? Was he supposed to play this little game where

But, that couldn't be. When he talked to her, she had a sweet little voice that expressed rather naïve sentiments. She was either a very good actress, or she was a genuinely naïve little fledgling who didn't know how things worked down here, and truly tried to make a misguided attempt at being nice.

He tried to tell her as such, but she got huffy and screechy again, so he dropped it.

When she said she'd rented him out for a week so he could take a break, he truly had no idea how to react.

It was hard to tell where he stood with this little fledgling, who was so bizarre and nonsensical that he felt sure she couldn't be real. He knew where he stood with the other vampire women—on the bottom, to be crawled over like a bed and feasted on like a buffet. As long as he basically held still, let them do whatever they wanted, and possibly did what they wanted when they demanded it or bit/scratched/squeezed it out of him, his stay down here was… as tolerable as one on their way to the ghouls could make it.

This little fledgling he could barely see in the dark, who stood there awkwardly, barely talked to him, snapped at him when he tried to talk to her, went out and came back despite her apparent dissatisfaction with him, and sometimes did nice things but then insisted she wasn't being nice at all, defied every ounce of logic he could ever muster in this topsy-turvy nightmare the vampires had thrown him into.

This could only be the product of a broken mind.

In fact, he was sure of it. This had to be a hallucination, a fever dream, or something similar. It was too much of a mind fuck to be real.

He decided to drop his puzzlement by concluding that his mind had finally snapped and he'd made up some sweet vampire fledgling to give him food and bandages. The endless darkness and pain and torture and trauma of this place had finally gotten to him, and his broken mind had made up this charitable vampire maiden who brought him food and medicine and blood to make living in his hellhole much more bearable.

It made him calmer than he'd ever been, knowing he was crazy and riding a pleasant hallucination to death, if he wasn't dead already. He let her feed him dark leafy greens and apply ointments that stung but made him feel better in the long run and juice him up with transfusion blood.

He then realized something. If this was his hallucination (and it had to be, she was a petit girl with a sweet little voice and the biggest rack imaginable for a girl her size), that meant he could tease her the way she teased other girls, without getting punished for sassing a vampire.

When she brought him bathroom supplies, he couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"What, no loofa?" he'd teased.

"I don't even know what that is," she'd snapped.

She'd forgotten to close the door behind her, so he could see that she was a scruffy tomboy who wore plain, boyish clothes and had short, messy, boyish hair. Of course she wouldn't. Wasn't his ideal fantasy in that department, but maybe his mind felt it made too many concessions by creating such a pretty girl with such lovely eyes, such a pretty voice, and such great boobs.

In fact, he felt sure that he could keep teasing her, and even come onto her, but she wouldn't break his jaw for back-talking he or taking the invitation to crawl all over him and ravage him to her lust's content.

Her cute and flustered reaction was exactly what he'd hoped for.

God, this was a good dream!

If he was really cold, bleeding, and starving on the concrete floor in his cold cell, he didn't want to regain his sanity to experience it. Even if he was being raped by a vampiress right now, and his mind was coping with it by picturing instead a luxurious shower or a good laugh with a pretty girl, he'd take the hallucination over the reality any day.

Of course, there were some things he didn't like about it.

A part of Pip was still too shrewd and practical to enjoy this hallucination, either. If, on the off-chance this wasn't a dream, he wasn't going to take a chance on provoking this vampire girl too much and risk her kind's retaliation. (He now thought "her kind" because he could no longer see her doing it, even if this wasn't a dream.)

As such, he still felt obliged to make her happy when she came in, but she refused to let him know what made her happy. She came in to see a "prosti-dude," yet she was virginal and awkward. She still hovered in the dark near the door, which made him a bit uneasy. She still resisted any attempts he made to help her relax or settle in. She still wouldn't say what she wanted out of her cessions with him, which made it difficult for him to know how to please her. If she said she didn't want sex but she did want to discuss re-institutionalizing racism in the post-modern world, he'd happily oblige her. But as it was, she wouldn't say what she wanted, but then just kind of hovered there awkwardly, and then got pissy when he tried to ask her questions or make suggestions they do something else.

Pip the mercenary had always fancied himself good at reading people, but maybe that ability flew when his mind snapped. He just couldn't quite get a grasp on her, even if she was just a product of his broken mind, which increased their awkwardness.

On the whole, though, he really enjoyed the hallucination. He enjoyed getting the week off to sleep and rest as long as he wanted (though the bed and ratty old blanket was far from comfortable) with only visits from a cute little fledgling to bring him food and presents. Part of him still felt terror when he heard footsteps down the halls, heard screams from across the hall, and when his mettle door creaked open, fearing it was another client come to extract her pleasure from his pain; but by and large the weak was pleasant.

Sometimes it felt very real, and this made him sad; especially when he told her his life's story, and she combed his hair and said nice things to him. It was too good to be real—and if it was, there was no way he could deserve it. He realized he'd been the scum of the earth when he had been alive (he thought he was still alive, but didn't feel it), and he was the scum of the vampire's basement here.

He used to scoff at feminists who said that men like him exploited desperate young women by visiting whorehouses (many of whom had been brought there against their will, or were too economically desperate to find a better line of work), and he'd gone to visit whorehouses all around the world anyway. Now he was thrown into a vampire's dungeon, forced into prostitution against his will, beaten and starved and abused by creatures that didn't even see him as a person; just a slab of meat to devour and leave.

He'd killed so many countless men for fun and for money, and now here he was, being toyed with by monsters who hurt him for fun until he died.

It made him sad, so he chose not to think about it.

The hallucination seemed to end when the week was up and he had to get back to work. Seras had tried to rent him out for another week, but Narissa was impatient to have him back because his clients complained. He didn't know they cared. When they got him back, they all but jumped him and made up for lost time.

He half expected them to slash him to pieces to make him go back to being the way they wanted, but they actually seemed… pleased by his new virile. Those that weren't left and never came back, but those that did stayed longer and came to visit him more frequently.

"Ahhh!" one of his nicer clients exclaimed after he brought her to the moon and back, "I always knew you were skilled, plaything, but I never thought you could do… _that_…"

Another one was almost… shy… after he was done with her (or rather, she would have retorted, after she was done with him), and she practically scooted toward him. "Do you think you could… do _that _again…?"

Why was she asking? He was under her mercy, wasn't he?

The one who'd first given him a smoke was openly pleased and flipped him over so he was lying on his back. "You've gotten much stronger, mortal."

"Oui," he'd smiled under her.

"And you could last much longer. Tell me…" she'd said as she straddled his hips. "You think you could last longer for round two?"

Soon, Narissa started charging higher prices for vampires to see him, and had to impose breaks in his schedule to give him rest. Soon, she started advertising him to new clientele, and while vampire women still bit and clawed at him and still had their way with him, it wasn't done as suddenly, violently, or painfully as before. These vampire women were willing to go more slowly, include a bit of foreplay, allowed him to do things to them instead of just expecting him to lie back and let them do things to him; and they rather enjoyed the journey, not just the definition.

Whatever scorn he once felt for women needing a lot of foreplay back when he was alive, he now took completely back.

His hallucinations slowly started blending into his reality. Narissa moved him to a better room; one with small lamps, so he could see. One with a comfortable bed, toilet, and shower—one with hot water! Oh, that glorious hot shower—he'd almost forgotten how heavenly it felt. Again, all scorn for women taking too long in showers back when he was alive was completely abandoned.

He still received some visits from sa cher, but they became so much less frequent he was starting to feel like he was coming out of the insanity that had caused him to create her in the first place. Or maybe she was real all along and this was really happening… troubling to think about, but more easy to deal with as his situation improved and stabilized. He had a pretty stream of happy customers who liked where he was better than where he'd been, so he didn't have too many fears of going back in the dark.

It was very strange and, in some ways, difficult adjusting to having light again, after being in the dark for so long. However, he soon he soon forgave it when he saw Seras in full light. She was so beautiful. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, bar no one.

Of course she'd smiled sheepishly, averted her eyes, and shyly gestured to the basket she had brought him. What an angel.

He grew to like his new room. He now had good food, solid clothes, gifts from clients (a cowboy hat! Hi-oh!), a comfortable bed to sleep in (and blankets that kept him warm), and some leisure time. For once he had energy to pass the time by working out, not just lying there too exhausted and lethargic to move.

The best part were the visits from Seras. She was still so cute, and so pretty, and now he could actually her clearly. He now understood the reasons for her awkward body language. She was shy and awkward; virginal and inexperienced. She blushed cutely when she saw him shirtless, and looked away modestly, trying to convince herself she didn't like the view when she did.

Teasing her became way more fun from then on out.

This new life was good, but what made it worth living was visits from Sera. She came back to visit less often in this room than the old one because of how much more expensive it was, but that just made the time they had together more precious to Pip. He liked talking with her and passing time together, however briefly.

Then, she'd seen him with another client. Horrified and disgusted, she'd bolted.

It'd reminded Pip of his true status: as a whore. They may have dressed him up prettier and given him a nicer room, and brought better clients with better perks and presents. But at the end of the day (whenever that was), he was just a plaything to vampires, turning good bed tricks for half a cigarette and the "pleasure" of living one more day.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling, and he doubted she'd ever want to come down to see him again. She saw him for what he really was, and she fled in horror and disgust. He couldn't blame her. He would too.

He returned from the shower in not but his boxers (nice, clean tiger print) and a towel draped across his shoulders. One of the vampire dames lay in his bed, wearing a little negligée.

"You took long enough," she said with an impish little grin.

"Pardon, ma cher," he said as he sat on the bed, lighting a cigarette. She motioned for one too, and he handed her the pack and lit one for her.

Seras hated smoking.

"You know she's not coming back," the vampiress said as she exhaled.

"Who?"

"Seras! The little _blood virgin_," she laughed. "Everyone knows what a pathetic little prude she is. It's all the latest gossip. She had the opportunity to lose her blood innocence for _months_, but she never took it. Why, just last moon she went to see the Captain, the Maker of Women, but she scurried out of there as clean as she came in. Then she went to see you every night for a week, and still she came out fresh as a newborn babe."

She took a deep drag of her cigarette, then put it out. She then motioned for him to light the next one, which she did. She reveled in the high of the first inhale.

"You don't say," Pip murmured.

"Ja! I mean, that doesn't say anything about you as a _man_, um…"

A _man_? Huh. It had been a long time since anyone had ever called him that. Since he'd thought of himself as that. No one had even hinted as such, until the night Seras had said, a bit offhandedly, that he reminded him of the Dothraki warriors of some book she liked.

He let his long braid run loose between his fingers, feeling the oils that kept it smooth. Oils she had brought him. Smooth hair that she had brushed. A braid she couldn't make.

"It's just…" the vampiress laughed, "How _pathetic_ does she have to be to come into a room with a man like you night after night, week after week, and still walk away a _blood virgin_!" she cackled, "So pathetic!"

It didn't bear thinking that she had been the only one here who treated him like a person; who cared about what he wanted.

"I mean, come on," the vampiress said to him, running her fingers up and down his abs, "You don't need to be dragged down by a geeky little girl like her. You deserve a _real woman_ who knows _exactly_ how to treat a man like you…"

Her hand cupped his package.

He sat still for a very long time, then took a deep breath, and sighed.

"You're right," he smiled as he leaned over her.

They fell back into the bed to enjoy round two.

* * *

If I got the male character POV wrong, I apologize. I'm a woman and I have a woman's perspective on the world, so it's challenging capturing how a dude's experience would go. I tried to write this chapter so many other times in so many other ways, but nothing seemed to "work." And I couldn't go over Seras' view without retreading more of the same ground. I felt it was really important for us to get Pip's POV before we could carry on.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: The popularity for this fic has been unprecidented. I assume it's the title and rating, personally.

I had no confidence in my ability as a writer or storyteller when I first started writing fics years ago, so I just wove Hellsing characters into pre-existing stories like Peter Pan, Carmilla, The Little Mermaid, and more. The amount of popularity for this fic, and other original fics, make me think that maybe you guys do like my original stories... which scares me. What if I disappoint you all? It creates writer's block like you wouldn't believe.

Disclaimer: Don't own or make any money off Hellsing.

* * *

After a few days of crying, Seras dried her eyes and crawled out of bed. Well, not her bed, her coffin. As comforting as her dark, empty bedroom was (she felt she could drape the darkness and silence over her like a shroud), her master had returned from the war and he needed her back to work as his secretary. He had conquered a whole new realm, along with many new castles, captive nobles, and humans-er, serfs. He would need her to go over treaties, deeds, titles, and other such documents.

Actually, why was it that once vampires took over the world, they reverted back to the Feudal system? What was wrong with the Industrial Revolution, or Capitalism? Or the maybe the British Empire of the Victorian Era… then again, the vampires seemed to enjoy commandeering many Victorian fashions, furniture, and social functions to suit their own purposes, mixed with the rather draconian medieval system.

After all, humans needed to eat, and vampires weren't going to do the work to feed them. They also needed subjects to rule, and a place for humans to go and… _exist_ when the vampires weren't dealing with them. So, the humans worked the land to grow their own food, and vampires owned the land that the humans worked on. And they owned the humans who lived on the land, but that was a minor detail. Humans also distributed the food that their kind grew for each other to eat, and vampires feasted on the humans that they owned. It was a horrible system, but in a way it was one that worked.

Actually, it didn't.

Hiding out in her room didn't keep Seras from receiving papers from her master to go over. She did not need to go to the office for several days because her master was out engaging in "WAR!" (as he liked to call it), but some new treaties, titles, land deeds, and other such documents made their way to her room, needing some appropriate signature, or to be filed away in the appropriate place.

Seras was increasingly horrified to discover, as she flipped through the documents, that humanity's population was declining. So many new vampires were being created all the time; each with so little self-control, each indulging in their bloodlusts and murderous instincts. Worse still, some vampires preferred to create a lot of ghouls to directly control rather than keep hoards of humans to serve them, yet ghouls needed human flesh to sustain themselves as surely as vampires needed human blood, or else they would expire in less than a week.

The wanton violence, destruction, massacres, and mass turnings (whether to new ghouls or new vampires) were creating such a _strain_ on the human population that it could not sustain the vampires' lifestyle for much longer. Soon, the vampires would have to either seriously curb their nights of fun _and_ stop making any new ghouls or vampires at all, or start killing each other en masse to bring their own population down, or starve. The vampire population could not continue to grow AND indulge in their wanton gluttony without devouring both humans _and_ their own species.

Of course, the sensible thing to do would be for the vampire lords to curb their nights of fun until such a time as... WHAT?! The vampire lords were staunchly refusing to believe their indulgent lifestyles were draining their human population's blood supply, and they were violently refusing to cease their nights of fun? Many nobles were gathering together in groups and protesting the Vampire King's proposed measures to conserve the human population?

As Seras sat cross-legged on her bed, with the documents sprawled out on her lap, she could not contain her gasps of horror as she read the state of affairs. Most vampires were extremely greedy and short-sighted and could not—_would not_ believe that their extravagant lifestyles should be contained.

"After all, we are the lords and masters of the universe," they said. "Our Lord Vampire King says that we are above humans. They were created to feed and serve us. Why should we not do with them as we will?"

"Because, you arrogant little _shit_," her master had said, "If you keep playing these games, humans die out and we go _extinct_, you short-sighted _punk_!"

"Humans shall never go extinct!" one said. "As long as we keep breeding them, and storing their blood, we'll always have plenty."

"They cannot breed as fast as you are killing them!" her master's lieutenant had said. "You have to slow down, and let them produce more young before you kill them."

"Then they are weaklings that don't deserve to live," said the leader of the rebels.

"WE DEPEND ON THEM TO LIVE!" her master's lieutenant had screamed.

Before long, war broke out. Her master had fairly recently passed a law that said that vampires could no longer create new vampires or ghouls. Many disobeyed, and had to be put down. Her master had reveled in the bloodbaths this had created. Many allies of those slain had protested, rioted, and then revolted, but they were put down too.

Seras' master had strolled into his study right after the battle, soaked head-to-toe in blood, and pulled Seras from her desk and waltzed with her merrily around the room.

"Master!" she'd flushed as he led her into a dip.

"War, Police Girl!" he had cried; his cheeks flushed with exhilaration beneath the splattered blood. "Glorious war!"

However, these controversial laws had not contained the existing vampires' bloodlust, nor the rebelling humans, nor the many ghouls who needed human flesh to satiate their endless hunger. Her master started proposing killing off most ghouls so that present vampires could continue drinking mostly uninhibited, and leave plenty of quelled humans for vampires to feast on. This naturally split the vampire population down the middle—those who liked the idea of having less ghouls around so they could have more humans for themselves, and those who hated the idea of killing off lots of ghouls because they having massive ghouls armies for themselves. The ones who liked ghoul armies naturally revolted, which her master had just gone to war to put down in a brutal slaughter.

All this was what was going on in the world when Seras had walked in on… on her favorite human with another vampire woman, and now it all seemed so paltry by comparison.

Her master had won the war, and those few enemy vampires who had surrendered were now ready to talk peace terms. They would be severely punished, of course, but for the remaining vampire lords in the world, this would serve as an example. Now that her master had put down the opposition, he would define the terms of his victory. The law of no longer turning humans into new ghouls and vampires would remain, and as for the rest... there would soon be a purge of the ghoul population.

"About time," Seras thought with distaste. It was like a zombie apocalypse out there, just with vampires directing the mindless hordes.

While some loyalists readily bowed to their king's demands, others steadfastly refused. There was an especially large group of vampires who adored keeping lots of ghouls, and who wanted the

Regardless, Seras could not stay in her room forever. She had to go out, even though it meant exposing herself to the ridicule of her peers.

Seras dressed herself in her most professional secretary uniform—a navy dress with black stockings and flat black boots, with her hair neatly combed for once. Something that made her feel pretty, but secure and professional—almost as a way to ward off the mockery.

No such luck. From the moment she left her room, she could feel the mocking eyes and jeering whispers as she passed. There were so many of them. There seemed to be vampire couples and groups in every hallway and around every corner. Every richly decked drawing room, ball room, and salon was no good either. In every room, there were richly dressed nobles, sipping wine and lounging and fondling each other.

Seras, who had a job, kept trying to assure herself that she had nothing to be ashamed of as she walked to her room. She knew the state of vampire society was on the verge of collaps thanks to indulgence like theirs, and soon their extravagance would be outlawed, and she would have been ahead of the curve the whole time. Still, that would be then and this would be now, and she could not ignore their malice or their mockery as they stood right before her, taunting her with their eyes, facial expressions, and voices. She tried to keep her head down but her eyes ahead, not stopping to talk to anyone or hint that she could hear the awful things they said.

She tried not to notice the golden-haired vampiress in a plunging red dress giggle as the vampire man she was drinking wine with stuck his hand up her dress.

As she rounded a corner, she tried not to balk as she discovered another vampire woman pressed against a windowsill, sighing and moaning luxuriously as her pet human rammed her into the wall over and over on her orders. "Very good..." she purred, "Very good."

There was only one more room she needed to cross to get to her master's study, and it was through a large drawing room. She knew from many visits that it was richly furnished with Persion rugs, gilded frames for sensuous Victorian paintings, many red plush couches and lounge chairs, and a piano. Dozens of aristocratic vampires in their most fashionable attire lounged in the drawing room, drinking wine and listening to fine music as they no doubt basked in how fine they thought themselves.

Being a laughing stock, no one failed to notice the pathetic blood virgin walking through the center of the room. It was a stigma not unlike what many adolescent and young adult men feel when their less sensitive peers learn that they cannot or will not "perform" on a sexually nubile and available woman; be she a prostitute or wife. After all, if a young man's manliness was defined by his ability to sexually conquer a female, then a vampire's worth was defined by his or her ability to conquer a human. Since blood and sex and violence were entwined for vampires, Seras' unwillingness (suspected inability) to conquer a human through carnal means or through fang was seen as a double failure on her part, both as a woman and as a vampire.

These thoughts brought on dark thoughts that led to _dark_ memories. They were the sort of dark memories that led to many terrible outbursts as a child; ones that left other children bleeding or hospitalized. When she had been in the orphanage, by adolescence most of the other kids and teachers alike knew that when Seras was in a mood like this, they tread lightly or leave her alone. None of the current vampires knew it, but Seras was getting wound up tighter than a rat trap. The slightest prod from the wrong soul would lead her to snap.

She hid her dark eyes under her bangs and tried to make a bee line for her master's study, but she was stopped by two drunken idiots.

"Well-y well well, if it isn't our resident _**blood virgin**_."

"Go away, Jonathan," she said with a voice black as pitch.

They snickered. "Or what, you'll talk about your fee-wings with me?" he said in a mock baby tone, to the laughter of his friend.

"Leave me alone," she said in a voice that promised consequences if he didn't, but he didn't listen.

"What? She couldn't even handle a single human!" he said to the whole room, "You think she could handle a whole lot 'o vampire like me?"

"I don't have time for this," she snapped, and pushed passed him to the door.

He grabbed her arm. "Maybe if you didn't have a flaccid little _eunuch_ to give you pillow talk, you could learn a thing or two from a real man..."

Something inside Seras snapped. She turned tail and slapped his lower jaw right off his face.

The aristocratic vampires all around the room gasped in shock and horror as the lower jaw flew through the air and bounced off the piano, leaving a bloody little smear on the keys.

"YOU HAVE THE MIND OF A GUTTER RAT, JOHNNY!" screeched the girl who just snapped like a rat trap.

"You little BITCH!" his friend yelled, pulling out a blade hidden in his cane.

Using her police training, Seras flexed her right wrist and broke his nose, then used her other hand to easily wrench his blade out his his hand and jam his arm behind his back. His cries of pain enraged the other vampires in the room, particularly his close friends, and they came at Seras too. Filled with nigh murderous rage, and possessing more combat training in her human life than most of them had seen in their entire existence, she easily outmaneuvered several of them. Several vampires managed to get a punch in or a scratch back before she managed to kick or shove them aside, or use the momentum of their body weight against them.

When Jonathan's lower jaw grew back, he lunged at her and tried to wrestle her to the ground.

This was a huge mistake, as it set off the worst in her and she blacked out.

When Seras came to, she was breathing deeply and slowly, her master standing over her, two steadying hands hovering near her heaving shoulders. She stood in the center of the drawing room, with every vampire in it either passed out on the floor or furniture (at least, they looked passed out...) or cowering in fear before her. There were many pools and splatters of blood everywhere, and Seras' knuckles and fingers stung. Her claws her extended, and they were covered in blood. Her teeth ached too, and she realized her shark-like vampire teeth were extended. For one wild moment she feared that she had drank blood in her wild state, but she did not feel any different, and the inside of her mouth was dry as a bone.

She looked slowly around at the terrified faces, and a few flinched when she looked their way.

She had no idea what had just happened, or what she had done, if she had done anything at all. Her master stood over her, after all. But no, his suit was as impeccably clean as ever, while Seras' every muscle ached, her dress was tattered, her teeth and claws were extended, and her hands were covered in blood. Just like the blood surrounding the room.

She had no idea what she did, but she also knew she now had their fear - if she let this moment pass, she would lose it and their respect.

She took a deep breath, balled her fist, glared at all of her enemies around the room, then rested them on a terrified Jonathan.

"If you ever touch me again," she said in her blackest voice, "I'll rip your heart out."

"Well-said, my secretary," he said. It was a reminder to everyone in the room that Seras was under his protection, and that she had his approval to defend herself when she was accosted by subjects of his that did not have his permission to harm one of his closest employees. "Now, come into my study."

She could only do as he said, and walked mutely inside.

"Clean his mess up," he ordered his terrified subjects, and slammed the large oak doors behind him.

As soon as she was in his study Seras collapsed in her chair, shaking and breathing uneasily.

She was treated to slow clapping. She looked up, startled, and saw the Vampire King clap slowly and deliberately. "Very good, Seras Victoria," he said in his richest voice.

"... What?"

"You passed my test," he said, with obvious pride.

Seras could only stare. "You... you planned that?!"

"Of course," he said easily, and sat across from her in his great swivel chair. "Why do you think I turned you in the first place?"

"You... you planned this trick?"

"Still not quick on the uptake, I see," he said with obvious disgust.

"You... I don't understand..."

"Then I'll explain this as simply as possible, so that even dull-minded simpletons like you can understand," he said, turning to face her, resting his elbows on his desk and folding his hands before his face.

Seras didn't trust herself to speak, and on top of that she was still shaking, so she waited for him to continue.

He remained silent.

"... You set them up," she said.

"They bore me," he said.

"They're your subjects!"

"Of a kingdom to which I've grown tired," he waved a hand dismissively.

"So you encouraged them to mock me knowing I'd...!"

"Our bond is stronger than anything you can imagine, Police Girl."

"So, what?" she snorted derivatively. " 'You know me better than I know myself' and all that palava?"

He laughed a roaring, booming laughter. It went on far longer than was comfortable for Seras, and she grimaced when he finally came to a stop. "Oh, you are a TREAT!"

"What do you want from me?!"

"Only this: I've grow bored of this kingdom which I've named myself monarch." He gazed sideways at her, "And you can help me."

"Oh, what?" she snapped. "Are you going to make me your concubine?"

"Don't be so crass, Police Girl."

"Then what?!" she snapped, fast losing patience with his coyness.

"You've seen from the reports I sent you: this world has begun to rot. It's become languid, fetid, and lascivious. The nobles have lazy, and over-indulgent."

"And who's fault is that?!" Seras snapped.

"Don't push it," he said in a voice that brokered silence.

Seras glared defiantly up at him.

"You've seen that the human population cannot sustain their extravagant lifestyles, but most would resist any attempts to curb their indulgence."

"It'll create the wars you've always wanted," Seras said with not mild disgust.

She saw how it was: he wanted to conquer humanity and so turned an army of vampires and ghouls to turn and overpower them. He then created a world of bloodthirsty vampires that fed off humans as casually as humans once fed on chickens and cattle. Now that he was bored of this new world he created, he was going to "cull the herd," as she had heard him say once before, and bring down the population of vampires again.

"That's right, and you are going to fight them with me."

Seras was literally knocked out of her chair.

"Wha-! ME?!"

"You are one of the strongest fighters I have ever created," he said simply. "While your hand-to-hand prowess as a police officer left much to be desired, your resistance to your baser urges proved an intriguing change from the usual fan fare."

"Wha-? Bu-? I still don't see how that makes me-!"

"When I first turned you I expected you to give into your cardinal desires like all of my other simpering lackeys, but you have proven to be a fresh breath of pure air."

"Yes, one you mocked for being 'too pure' before!" Seras snapped. She still didn't forgive him for that.

"Yes," he said. "And how is that little human of yours in the cellar?"

Seras gasped.

"Yes, I know all about that," he said. "Did you really think I would send you down there expecting you to just lose your 'blood virginity' to the first whore to cross your path?"

"Then you...! You knew...!"

"I knew that you would never even _consider_ passing along your precious treasure along unless you cared about the man," he grinned a shark's grin. "And now, I have my bargaining chip."

"You're sick!" Seras exclaimed, and stood abruptly from her chair to stalk out the room.

"The human is becoming too expensive for you, isn't he?"

Seras stopped dead in her tracks, and grimaced.

Without turning around, she said, "All your doing, I suppose?"

"Don't be absurd."

"Then why?!"

"Because I want you to fight in this war with me," he said, rising. "Drink the blood, Police Girl. Become a true Nosferatu. Walk the path of a true Draculina. Take the world by storm, and rule the world of the night. Become a true No-Life Queen!"

"And then what? Become your mistress?"

"I told you, I don't care about getting you in bed," he said, and took a step toward her.

"Then what?!"

"Become my general," he said. "My second-in-command, if you will. I know you've always been unhappy with the way humans were treated in my realm. Well, now you have the power to change things. Purge this world of the filth I have created, and take the reigns yourself when I start anew. Create the new laws by which my subjects will be forced to obey."

"And then what? You'll kill me too?"

"You are the only fledgling I have fed my own blood."

Seras was struck silent. She stood with her back against the door, and her master stood over her.

Despite his assurance that he did not want her in bed, he leaned over her and placed both of his white gloved hands on either side of her head; dominantly; seductively.

"Become my No-Life Queen," he purred

She was silent for a long time. She did not trust herself to speak.

"What of my humanity?"

"Your humanity is gone, Police Girl!" he snapped, withdrawing his hands at once. "You cling to that which is long dead, like a man who assures himself that he can feel his arm despite it long being severed."

"I can't just 'drink blood' -!"

"You can, and you will."

"And if I refuse?"

"Will you do it for the good of your precious humanity?"

"What? Become a monster just to protect humanity?"

"It is more possible than you think," he said, his voice twinged with sadness.

"Will I even care about humans once I do?!" Seras cried, tears forming in her eyes. And now we reach the heart of her terrors. "What if I drink the blood and I become like YOU! Or them! What if I forget - what if I stop caring about them the way YOU have-?!"

"Do you think I would ask you to do something if I did not think you could accomplish it?"

"I don't know!" she cried, tears in her eyes, "I don't know anything anymore!"

"Not even yourself?" he leaned over her again, "Do you truly believe you will cease caring about your pathetic values once you become what I am?"

"You tell me!" she said. "How many of your other 'pets' survived the transformation?"

"There have been more than you think," he said. "You just don't see them because they don't draw attention to themselves as you have."

"Well, that's a relief!"

"If you won't do it for humanity, then will you do it for that one human?"

Seras' heart froze, dead as it was.

"What are you offering?" she asked.

"One month," he said. "In exchange for one month of service to me, fighting whatever battle I wish, I will ensure the rest of this human's life belongs to you."

"And what if he has some sort of terminal cancer I don't know about?" Seras demanded. At this point, she did not put it past her master, to trick her into giving up the last scraps of her humanity and her blood innocence just in exchange for a few days with the human she cared for most.

"Oh, he's healthy as a horse, believe me..." there was shift in his eyes. "For now."

" 'For now'? What do you mean, 'for now'?"

"He is quite the _stallion_, isn't he?" he said.

Her master's crudeness made her flinch.

"So much so that everyone wants a ride," he said as he collapsed back into his swivel chair. "But these are very rich nobles you're dealing with, Police Girl. It's only a matter of time before someone decides they want to buy the horse and have only rides for themselves."

"And you think that won't change in a month?" Seras asked.

"I'll buy him the second you drink blood of your own volition," he said, removing a pristine white glove. "And then, when the moon returns to the phase it was on the night you agreed to take blood, after you have done all that I asked, I will give him to you." He cut his palm with a letter opener, and squeezed out a few drops of blood with his fist. "And he will be yours, for the rest of his life."

Seras watched the blood drip from his fist in trepidation; tempted and yet hesitant.

Little did she know, it was already becoming too late to take him up on even that offer. The vampires she had savaged in the drawing room were some of the richest and most powerful, with some friends in equally high places. Unable to hurt Seras due to her status as their king's favorite, yet wishing to get back at Seras through her one vulnerable means, one of the aristocratic vampire women stole down into the cellars. She talked swiftly with Narissa, and a bargain was reached.

In his dark room, the human slept in his plush bed.

She smirked psychotically as she saw her own dominant shadow in the silhouette of the doorway. She cracked her whip, startling him awake.

"Wake-y, wake-y!" she sneered.

He rubbed the sleep from his eye, and fumbled for a light. "This is my time to rest..."

"Not anymore, it isn't," she smirked, flashing a knife. "I own you now."

The color drained from his face. "Non..."

"Now..." she said, strolling forward. "Let's see if we can have some **fun**."


	6. Chapter 6

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Seras' clenched fist trembled on the desk. She wanted so badly to accept his offer. She wanted so much to take a drink. All she had to do was stick out her tongue and let rich, red liquid pour down her throat. Sating her. Sustaining her…

But deep inside she felt she would be changed by the experience, and she wasn't ready to change yet.

Though every inch of her body ached for the red liquid, that iron will forced her to lower her head, and her eyes.

"I can't."

He stared at her for several moments, and withdrew his hand. The blood returned to the wound, which healed, and he placed his glove back on. He stood in front of his desk, and stared at her for several minutes.

"Get out."

Seras didn't need to be told twice.

It was just too crazy to think about! He made this world into a festering hell-hole filled with vampires and demons on every corner, now he wanted to purge them all and give the world back to humans? Or, rather, he wanted to make the world more inhabitable to humans? Who was it? How could he do that to his own people? His own subjects? Seras hated them too, but they weren't _her_ people. ("Yes they are," the vampire voice whispered deep inside her, but she ignored it.) She didn't create them. She didn't give them run of the world, and then decide to kill them when she grew bored with how they ran it.

She always hated them, and she hated her master for making them. She'd always felt so angry, so helpless before. Now he was offering her a chance to heal the world. All well and good, but—at least before she could _respect_ her master. He made the world the way it was, and he had presided over it. Even if she hated his subjects, and hated him by extension, at least she could respect him for making the world the way he wanted and protecting his citizens, dark and twisted and horrible as they were.

Now he was making the world the way she wanted, but it didn't feel right because he was betraying his own people to do it.

What if he became bored with her in the new world? Would he kill her too? Decide he liked the decadent world better, and side with a new vampire to kill her?

But her gut didn't believe it even as her mind thought it.

_"You are the only fledgling I have fed my own blood."_

Seras walked blindly from room to room around the castle, not even aware that the creatures of the night now fled and hid from her. She was too lost in her own thoughts to notice that they didn't dare tease or harass her as they did every other time before.

Instead, she thought of the chance to make things right…

Then she groaned, thinking about how her master had a way of doing things in a way that twisted the knife the hardest.

She didn't want to become a monster like them! She didn't want to lose the last scraps of her humanity. If she drank blood, she could feel it… it would be the end of something… it would be like a true death… she could feel it, deep in the recesses of her soul… she knew that as soon as she drank blood, accepted what she was, something important would end inside of her forever.

_"He's quite the _stallion_, isn't he?"_

She blushed, and looked up at that unwelcome thought. She was in the kitchens now, and a few miserable looking humans kept their eyes on the food they were preparing. A few pots of bland-looking stew, and cutting boards to chop up the vegetables for the stews. In the pantry, she knew where were only this season's fruits and vegetables harvested. Nothing else.

She thought of the stews and the fruits and vegetables she had brought for Pip in the cellar below.

She remembered his warm smile, his tight skin, the hot blood pulsing through his veins, and the rhythmic beating of his heart. She thought of his sharp tongue and his quick wit. She remembered the mischievous glint in his eye, and the suggestive grin (which always made her blush, even in memory) every time she went to visit him. She remembered the heat radiating off his skin, which she could practically see and smell with her vampire senses. She had felt it only once, when she had touched his shoulder as she had combed his hair. The heat was so strong she could feel it coursing through her hand, up her wrist.

He always radiated heat—well, warmth, when she first met him. Warmth and heat and all things alive. Even locked in the coldest, darkest bowels of the castle, he smelled of earth and musk and spices and dust and tobacco smoke. Everything about him radiated… _life_… which was especially attractive to one who was dead…

She held herself like she was cold. Cold and alone.

She felt guilty, then. She wanted to bask in that heat and warmth like a cat taking a nap in the sun. And it felt selfish to her, because it was his warmth to give and not hers to take.

She felt like a vampire then, stronger than any other time. She was a cold, selfish, parasitic monster that wanted to leech off the blood and light and warmth and sun he had that she couldn't make. They said vampires drank blood because they couldn't make any themselves, but that was too simple. They took life because they had no life themselves? That was too simple as well. It was _warmth_. It was liquid. It was life. Vampires envied humans who had hearts that could beat and hot blood that could flow and warm bodies that could share heat and life because they had none to give and…

She felt guilty, and she couldn't go see him, even though she never wanted to see him more. He wouldn't welcome the company of a vampire whose every cell ached to take his blood, his warmth, his life like a parasitic tube worm. One that couldn't make heat or blood or life itself, and so wanted to leech his.

He'd be better off without her. She had to be alone right now—alone to think. She had so much to consider.

Below, in one of the private dungeons in the castle, the stone walls echoed with screams.

The blonde vampiress who bought him pulled back to gloat at her work.

Pip Bernadotte hung from the walls in chains so tight they cut into his ligaments. And why shouldn't it? She wanted everything to hurt. His raggedy breath ripped from his chest as sweat and blood dripped from his face.

"Not sure if I like that eye…" she mused out loud.

"Why don't we pop it out? Make him blind?" her mate purred.

She'd invited him in to join her hours before. It was fun doing it by herself for the first few hours, but there were only so many ways to cut and whip someone by herself before it got repetitive and boring. And she couldn't do it too long without killing him. When she had to go fetch more blood to keep him alive (she was proud of herself for thinking to tie him up in a way that caused excruciating pain before she left, otherwise he would have been given too much hope with a brief respite), she brought her mate along. He always thought of new and creative ways to make them bleed and scream without damaging them too much, so the fun could go on and on.

Presently, her mate crawled up behind her, nibbling her ear and groping her breast while growing playfully in her ear.

Even strung up like a scarecrow (and tattered like one), the human shuddered and grimaced in disgust.

"Want to know a good way of striking fear into them, love?" her mate growled into her ear.

"Mmm… how?"

"Like this." He cocked a gun, carelessly aimed behind him, and shot another pet of theirs they kept in a metal cage. He was half dead from weeks of neglect, anyway. She'd gotten bored with him long ago, so she'd stopped feeding him, but she hadn't made up her mind to kill him outright either.

The human flinched at the gunshot, and looked pained by the death of his fellow kind.

"That's how you do it," he grinned cockily.

"Oh, honey…" she cooed, and would have done him right there had the blast not brought the attention of one of her friends.

Tall and thin and willowy, she often waltzed

They all knew she wasn't quite right in the head. Tall and willowy, she often waltzed as though in a trance, floating through space as though she could hear music in her head.

"What beautiful music you two make," she said as she danced into their menagerie of chained and caged human. Her eyes instantly rested on their chained human.

"Thanks, Drellie," her mate said.

"It's Drusilla."

"Whatever."

"How crass you too are," she said in a sing-song voice as she drifted right up to the human they had chained.

"Is this the one?" she asked.

"That's right," her mate said as he nibbled her ear, and she swatted him away.

"The one who…?"

"That's right. Seras' favorite."

Elizabeth smiled vaguely, yet also maliciously.

"She swatted my love today. We can't let her get away with that."

She grabbed Pip's chin and forced him to look up, though his whole spine was already so painfully contorted it threatened to snap. "What do you say, human? Are you ready to have some fun?"

"That's what I said," his owner chipped in as her mate nibbled her ear.

"Oh, forgive me. You two have made a lovely choir in here…" she strolled absently to the center of the dungeon, then stopped abruptly. "But let's see if we can make it an orchestra."

She pointed and snapped her fingers at a human chained to the corner, thin and weak and maimed in the legs. He raised his flute as quickly as he could and begin to play, though tears sprang from his eyes as he did. Every time she ordered him to do that she filled the whole room with pain, yet if he resisted (and he had, once or twice before), they filled the room with his screams.

The notes of the little reed flute filled the little dungeon, its heavenly little sound a cruel and ironic counter to the hellish torment that awaited.

All humans not too starved or passed out to move cringed when they heard the music. The new human did not know to flinch or cringe, but he would soon learn.

She sighed as she swayed on her feet. "You two make the most beautiful music."

They grinned. "It's what we do."

She sighed again, and ran her hands over her own body. "It soothes my inner kitty, and helps me get some rest."

"A little late for that now," her mate said with a grin.

"Then let's create an orchestra of pain!"

As the music picked up, she pointed to the snogging couple. _"The melody of lusty growls!"_

Her mate growled playfully as he bit her ear again.

_"A counterpoint of painful howls!"_ she sang, and tightened the machine that made Pip howl.

She threw her hands into the air. _"A symphony of death, oh my!"_

"That's my lullaby," her friend finished for her.

Drusilla ran up to Pip and clutched his blood-soaked cheeks with her claws. _"His lovely mistress' mournful cry! _That's_ my lullaby!"_

Her friend grinned, and stood. "Then we'd better get to work."

"Now then," Drusilla whispered in Pip's ear, pulling out a hot poker. "Let's see if we can really make you _sing_."

The walls echoed with his screams.

Seras snapped awake in her coffin. She was in her own private room in the heart of the castle—not in one of the airy towers with a lovely view, but now down near the dungeons like some of the lesser nobles. She looked around, but saw no issue with where she lay. She opened her coffin and looked around her room, but found nothing wrong. It was barren except for a large tapestry used as a throw rug, a piano in the corner (most rooms had them; she didn't play), and a dresser for her clothes.

Everything looked fine, but something in her gut told her something was wrong.

She quickly rose from her coffin, put on her work clothes (a navy dress with black thigh-high stockings, and ankle-high black boots), and quickly scarpered out of her room. Her feeling of intense drowsiness and her inner supernatural clock (that all vampires seemed to have) told her it was well into the day, perhaps a little after noon. She knew most of the vampires would be asleep in their coffins, for even they tended to feel sleepy during the day, and would sooner indulge in their drowsiness than sleep than fight it in order to have some fun.

This made it easier to travel through the castle, as she had little fear of being seen by anyone but the servants (who straightened things out while most of their masters slept), and they hardly cared what she was doing.

She tried to assure herself that nothing was wrong as she made her way down to the dungeons. No doubt he'd be asleep—at least, she hoped he'd be asleep. She tried to assure herself that nothing was wrong—that she'd peek in, see that he was sleeping peacefully on his bed or doing pull-ups or something, then she'd be relieved, go back to bed, and wait to pluck up the courage to see him when he was awake again.

That was what she kept telling herself as she made it down to the dungeons, and tried to ignore sounds of pain on her way—actually? You know what? Screw it, she thought. She went into one room where she heard moaning, and saw a man tied up to a torture device that stretches limbs. It was a mechanical machine with a handle that turned on its own like a playing music box, and the human had a rag stuffed into his mouth to keep him from screaming. Seras smashed the handle with one powerful kick, and worked to untie him. The ropes had dug into his flesh down to the bone, but Seras was too furious and too fed up with the whole situation to care.

She also kind of wished she had a knife, so she could cut him loose with one powerful slice; not bite and claw at the rope like a clumsy kitten.

He profoundly grateful to be relieved of pain until she took the rag out of his mouth, then it seemed to occur to him that, as a vampire who just showed him a kindness, she might want to do something worse to him.

Before he could say anything, she said, "If anyone asks why you're untied, you tell them you have the Vampire King's assistant to deal with if they try to hurt you again, all right?"

She was so tired of being afraid of stepping on toes or angering more powerful vampires. If they were angry with her, let them come at her. By now she was itching for an excuse to fight. Either her master would stop her or kill her, but either way she was tired of living in fear of crossing him.

He nodded, and she left him to find another.

She found and freed too more painful sods the same way she'd freed this one. One looked like he was in so much pain he'd need either intense medical treatment, or to get put down. Seras didn't have the resources for the former nor the heart to do the latter, so instead she made a nest of blankets so he could rest, and some water for him to sip on until she came back for him.

Perhaps he'd know what to do with an injured soldier. He had seen many wounds, in his time.

Seras opened the door to his room. Her eyes widened in surprise, but her gut always knew. He was gone.

She found Narissa asleep in her own coffin. She threw the lid open and grabbed the scruff of her frilly night dress, which was so delicate it ripped in her hand while Narissa remained laying asleep in her coffin.

Seras blushed, glad no one saw that.

This time, she made sure to wake Narissa before pulling her up. "Where is he?!"

"Where is who, dear?"

"Don't play games with me, Narissa, I'm in no mood!"

"I should say not!" she said indignantly. "After that little display you put on last night."

"I don't care about any of that! I just want to know where he is."

"What concern is it of mine? I don't own him anymore."

Seras felt a cold stab in her gut. "You don't… own him?"

"I should say not! Not after how much money I was offered."

"Who bought him from you?!"

The color drained from Seras' face and her feet felt like lead as she rushed back up the stairs to find his new owner. Oh no, not that one…

Seras could hear his screaming from down the hall. Her dead heart leapt as her stomach flip-flopped. "Pip!" she cried, and in her haste to get to him she didn't notice the shadows sneaking up on her until it was too late.

Pip had spent so many hours screaming and writhing in pain that he was almost apart from himself, as a coping mechanism. He was no longer aware that he was screaming, he only felt pain, and could hear screaming which he occasionally realized was coming from him.

Sometimes he daydreamed of Seras soothing his pain, or stroking his brow, or cooing in his ear, in order to cope with the pain. He knew they were mere fantasies—emotions of love and sex release chemicals in the brain that act as endorphins, natural painkillers and mood-lifters to make even the worst situation seem somewhat bearable.

He knew they were mere illusions created by his pain-addled mind to cope with torture—to cope with trauma—but as the hours wore on and his body was ripped apart and his screams ripped from his body, the illusions grew stronger and stronger. He day-dreamed that Seras rushed in to save him. He dreamed she snarled like an animal, showing the full strength of her vampiric powers, and slashed and kicked at his torturers.

It never made him love her more than to see her snarl and fight.

But still, the pain continued, along with the nausea and helplessness and powerlessness at being at the mercy of these monsters. The visions blurred in and out between other scenes of pain and madness.

He was only vaguely aware of his own screams, which was why it vaguely surprised him to hear Seras' scream.

He saw a two men drag her in, holding her from either side of her arms so no matter how much she kicked, twisted and writhed, she couldn't break their hold.

He was exhausted by then, and could barely stay awake. He felt sure this was a dream, drifting in and out of consciousness.

He felt cold metal press against his skin, and his torturer say something—though he was far too exhausted and pain-addled to hear the words.

In his haze, his vision blurred in and out, of Seras being overrun by male vampires, Seras struggling only feebly against her attackers. One of her attackers tearing off her shirt, her arm—and her going berserk and making them shower in a rain of blood.

He felt the bite of metal on his neck, then a fountain of blood burst beside him. He felt himself succumb to exhaustion, ready to go into the black.

He could hear Seras' beautiful voice, though he could not hear or understand what she had to say.

It seemed to him the bonds on his wrists and under his skin were loosened, and he was aware that she was near him. Heh, there was that rush of endorphins again. She was so close, she could press her body against his if she wanted to, her…

He could feel her cool lips pressed against his own, which felt good against his feverish skin. He felt sure his wounds were infected and his blood turning septic from the dirty instruments. Soon he'd probably go into shock or bleed out or simply die of exhaustion, and he felt this was a good dream.

If this was a fever dream or a hallucination on his way out, it was a good one.

He loved Seras—loved her skin, her lips, her hair, her eyes, her knobby little hands, her sweet little voice. Dream or no, one little kiss before he died was all he needed to die happy.

His heart swelled with love, and it felt ready to expire.

He was vaguely aware that she was distressed (even in a dream, he thought, she fussed and fretted like a mother hen—and considering how he'd been treated by others before, he appreciated it all the more), and he could hear her voice make sounds that his broken mind was too exhausted to interpret.

He felt her lips press forcefully against his, and this time it was a wet kiss—wet and metallic with blood. He could feel her press her tongue against his, and he inhaled deeply, and tried to lift his hand to place on the back of her head (he thought he succeeded, but it likely never moved from his side. After how many times and in so many places the bones were broken, it would make sense), and put his all into the kiss.

He felt his mouth filling with liquid, and his half-hearted attempt to pull away was met with soft lips pressing even more insistently against his. Whelp, couldn't argue with that, and he gladly kissed her back, swallowing whatever interfering liquid ran down his throat.

Finally, when both seemed to have enough, they both pulled away.

Wow, those endorphins were really kicking in. His mind and brain were still too exhausted, and his eyes and ears still weren't working nearly as well as they should, but he was no longer in as much pain. Perhaps he was numb all over, or dying.

He smiled fondly at her, and tried to stroke a strand of her hair. Probably didn't succeed, but he thought as he did it that he loved her.

And then he felt relaxed enough to lay down for sleep, to embrace the comfort and darkness of oblivion.


End file.
